Yi r . 



ADDISON AND STEELE 

SELECTIONS FEOM 

THE TATLER and THE SPECTATOR 



. EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE 
BY 

HERBERT VAUGHAN ABBOTT 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, SMITH COLLEGE 



SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 



1^3 



COPYRIGHT 1914 
BY SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 



AUG 26 1914 



Wa. 



C1,A379253 



PREFACE 

In these selections I have aimed to present as 
many-sided a view of Steele and Addison as can be 
comfortably had within the limits of a first impression. 
In this attempt I have been somewhat hampered by 
the fact that Steele, being the sanguine and impulsive 
sort of promoter that he was, often threw his heartiest 
and most generous sentiments into English so blun- 
dering that it is likely to be a cause of sore confusion 
to the reader rather than a source of pleasure and 
good-will. For this reason it is impossible to do full 
justice to his protests against snobbery, his sympathy 
with those who often lack a champion, and his love 
of courage, fair play, and frankness. The selections 
from Addison will, I hope, illustrate his diversion 
over the fashions and foibles of society, his interest 
in material progress and prosperity, his faith in the 
reasonableness of the universe, and his taste for the 
simple, the normal, and the rational. The acute 
reader may also discern that he v.^as sometimes patient 
with what he took to be foibles when they were in 
reality new phases of thought and feeling to which 
he was obtuse. That the selection may be more repre- 
sentative, I have included two of Addison's papers 
from the Freeholder and two from the Guardian. 



Q PEEFACE 

They will be found as Chapters IX, X, XXIV, and 
XXVIII of this volume. The Roger de Coverley 
Paper's, having been published in another volume of 
the Lake English Classics, are not reprinted here. 

My introduction to that edition of the Roger de 
Coverley Papers, I have ventured to repeat, but with 
the omission of some paragraphs pertinent only to 
the earlier book and with the inclusion of others on the 
opera and early eighteenth century taste. From my 
former preface, I may quote : 

''There is perhaps no humor in literature more 
likely to appeal to a girl of sensitive tastes than the 
delicate strokes of Addison; there is certainly no 
period in English life so likely to appeal to a boy of 
masculine tastes as the brilliant and intensely human 
age of Queen Anne. The humor of Addison must 
be left to disclose itself ; it is never improved by the 
officiousness of an editor. Much can be done, how- 
ever, to illustrate and make graphic the age for which 
and in which Steele and Addison wrote. ... In the 
Introduction, I have not restricted myself to such 
a brief account of Queen Anne's time as a boy or a 
girl might read off-hand at a sitting. On the con- 
trary, I have attempted to gather historical material 
from which the teacher may draw as occasion calls 
in the class room." 

This material I have supplemented in the glossary 
at the back of the volume by such notes as could not 
be easily included in one consistent and coherent 
piece of historical setting. I would call especial 



PEEFACE 7 

attention to the notes under the following titles: 
Apprentice, Ballads, Civil War, Gothic, Heroic 
Poems, London and Westminster, Louis XIV, 
Mahomet, Men of Sense, Presbyterians, Boyal Society, 
Sweden, and Unities. Besides explaining literary, 
geographical, and historical allusions, the Glossary 
explains words and phrases used in what is now an 
antiquated sense, calls attention to usages peculiar to 
the authors or their age, and contains an index of 
the subjects treated in the Introduction. 

For further light, students may turn with great 
advantage to a full copy of the Spectator, the third 
chapter o| Macaula^^^ffisfor^/ of England, and, if 
they are procurable', William Connor Sydney's two 
volumes on England arid the English in the Eighteenth 
Century. For biographical m^aterial, one will find 
that Thackeray's English Humorists, Courthorpe's 
Addison in the "English Men of Letters Series," 
and Dobson's Steele in the ''English Worthies Series" 
will furnish all that is needed. 

In preparing this edition I have made no changes 
in the authoritative editions I have followed except 
in modernizing spelling and capitalization and in 
cutting out a few brief passages which seemed to 
require omission. 

Herbert Yaughan Abbott. 

Northampton, Mas^^husetts, February, 1914. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 5 

Introduction 

1. The Tatler and the Spectator : 13 

2. The Streets of London 13 

3. Night in London 15 

4. The Beau 15 

5. The Woman of rashionV-<"^ 16 

6. Fashionable Amusements 17 

7. Life at the Theater 18 

8. The Polished Critics ' .... 19 

9. The Taste of the Upper Gallery .20 

10. Classical Taste 21 

11. Eules of the Drama 21 

'^12. Coffee Houses and Chocolate Houses 22 

\13. Special Coffee Houses 23 

14. The City 24 

15. The Landed Interest 25 

*.16. Travel into the Country 26 

1.7. The Country Gentleman 27 

18. The Country Squire 27 

19. The Church . 28 

20. The Whigs and the Tories 30 

21. The War 32 

22. Pamphleteers 33 

23. Journalists 34 

24. The Spectator Again; 35 

25 Joseph Addison 36 

26. Addison at the Coffee House 37 

27. Prudent Mr. Addison 38 

9 



10 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

28. His Kindly Spirit 39 

29. Dick Steele 40 

30. The Details of His Life 40 

31. His Frankness of Temper 42 

32. His Simplicity of Feeling 43 

33. Dobson on Steele 44 

34. A Picture of the Age 45 

Chronology 45 



ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

CHAPTER 

I The story of a Fable .... Addison 49^ 

II The Eeaders of the Spectator Addison Sly 

III Lewis the Fourteenth Steele 57>/ 

IV The Upholsterer Addison 6S^'~ 

V Coffee House News Addison 69* 

VI Printing and Paper ..... Addison 74 

VII The Adventures of a Shilling . . Addison 79 

VIII The Trumpet Club Steele 85 

IX Memoirs of a Preston Eebel . . Addison 91 

X The Tory Fox Hunter .... Addison 98 

XI Men of Fire Steele 105 

XII Magnanimity of Mind Steele 109 

XIII Horse Play Steele 113 

XIV The Honor of the Duelist .... Steele 117 
XV In a Home. Circle Steele 121 

XVI In Another Home Circle .... Steele 129 

XVII Servants Steele 135 

XVIII i^A Filial Daughter Steele 140 

XIX </The Charm of Woman ...... Steele 143 

XX Yarico and Inkle Steele 149 

XXI A Superstitious Household . . Addison 156 

XXII Miscroscopes and Telescopes . . Addison 161 

XXIII Condemning the Unfortunate . Addison 167 



CONTENTS 



11 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV The Lion Spies Addison 173 

XXV In a Coffee House Addison 179 

XXVI Being Negligent and Being Busy . Steele 185 

XXVII A Busy Life Addison 189 

XXVIII Tom D 'Urf ej Addison 196 

N XXIX Transmigration Addison 201 

XXX The Beau's Head Addison 208 

XXXI ^^he Coquette's Heart .... Addison 213 

XXXII *-The Fan Drill Addison 218 

XXXIII lia dies' Hoods . Addison 223 

XXXIV v-St5wn and (liountry Fashions . . Addison 228 
XXXV Early Eising Steele 233 

XXXVIx-^^Bed of Tulips Addison 239 

XXXVII Art and Nature Addison 245 

XXXVIII The Ballad of Chevy Chase . . Addison 251 

XXXIX Sir Timothy Tittle Addison 260 

XL The Applauding Trunk-Maker , Addison 266 

XLI Nieolini and the Lions .... Addison 271 

XLII The Vision of Discontents . . . Addison 276 

XLIII The Vision of Discontents No. II Addison 281 

XLIV A Cure for the Spleen Steele 286 

y XLV Temperate Living .' . . . . Addison 290 

XLVI The Lottery Addison 297 

XLVII Stage-Coaches and Constancy . Addison 303 

XL VIII The Vision of Mirzah .... Addison 308 

XLIX Westminster Abbey Addison 315 

L In 2011 A. D Addison 320 

LI Custom and Happiness .... Addison 326 

Glossary and Index to Introduction .... 331 



INTRODUCTION 

1. The Tatier Originally, the Taller and the Spectator 
and the were little periodicals. The Tatier 
Spec a or came out three times a week and its 
still better successor, the Spectator, every day. Each 
issue was published in a single sheet of foolscap, 
printed in double columns, on both sides, and accom- 
panied by a few announcements of booksellers and 
theater managers, and the advertisements of private 
subscribers. It reported no news; it aimed never 
to discuss politics; it was in reality a daily essay or 
sketch, to be read by men of fashion over their 
chocolate and women of fashion over their tea. To 
understand the novel purposes of these journals and 
their vogue one needs to know sometning of these 
men and women, who they were, how they lived, what 
they thought. 

2. The streets Tlie London^ in which they lived — for 
of iiondon they were most of them Londoners — 
one might walk the length of in but little over an 
hour, and across in less than half that time. To do 
it, however, one would often have to dodge into the 
street among gilded hackney coaches and fash- 
ionable sedan chairs, or else elbow one 's way brusquely 
and at risk of an affray, among porters bent under 

1 For further details, see London and Westminster in the 
Glossary. 

]3 



14 INTRODUCTION 

their loads of merchandise, shopmen stationed at their 
doors, apprentices, hawkers, sneak thieves, sauntering 
fops, and big town bnllies. The streets were narrow. 
There were no street numbers, and shopkeepers dis- 
tinguished their shops by elaborate signs — blue boars, 
black swans, red lioiis, and hogs in armor — which 
swung on creaking hinges over the passers-by. The 
sidewalks were narrow and divided from the streets by 
open gutters — kennels they called them then — and by 
an awkward arrangement of posts and chains. To 
walk near these kennels in rainy weather was to be 
drenched from the gutter spouts which, though they 
hung out a good distance toAvard the gutters, never 
sent their stream quite clear of the sidewalk. Rain 
or shine, men could always pick a quarrel on the 
privilege of keeping to the wall. One of the most 
vivid pictures we have of London streets is due to 
these quarrels regarding the wall. It is from a satirist 
of the time and runs as follows : 

You'll sometimes meet a fop, of nicest tread, 
, Whose mantling peruke veils his empty head. 
At ev'ry step he dreads the wall to lose, 
And risks, to save a coach, his red-heel 'd shoes, 
Him like the miller pass with caution by. 
Lest from his shoulders clouds of powder fly, 
But when the bully with assuming pace 
Cocks his broad hat, edg'd round with tarnish 'd lace. 
Yield not the way; defy his strutting pride, 
And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side. 
He never turns again, nor dares oppose 
But mutters coward curses as he goes.i 

1 John Gay: Trivia, 11:53-64. 



INTEODUCTION 15 

3. Niffht At night, the tin vessels that served for 
in London lamps diffused so little light, that every 
one with an honest errand engaged a torch bearer to 
light him on his way. As for protection, each man 
had to trust to his own rapier. "Appareled in thick, 
heavy greatcoats, the watchmen perambulated the 
streets, crying the hour after the chimes, taking pre- 
cautions for the prevention of fire, proclaiming tidings 
of foul or fair weather, and awakening at daybreak 
all those who intended setting out on a journey."^ 
"Watchman and constable, however, had seldom enough 
wit to serve an honest man in time of danger. Ac- 
cording to rumors that passed current among the 
timid, bands of aristocratic young rowdies seized 
peaceable men and women on the streets, tattooed or 
slashed their faces, rolled reputable women round in 
barrels, or, imitating the fox hunt, chased some citizen 
about town till finally they had him at their mercy. 
Then, it was said, they kept him dancing with pricks 
of their swords. It was probably of these rufflers that 
Dr. Johnson was thinking when he wrote the lines : 

Some fiery fop with new eommission vain, 
Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man — 
Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, 
Provokes a broil and stabs you for a jest. 

The town was full of young men who 

4. The Eeau 

had nothing to occupy them but brawls, 

drinking bouts, card playing, and fine dress; and of 

1 Sydney : England and the English in the Eighteenth 
Century. 



IQ INTEODUCTION 

these no small proportion spent all their serious atten- 
tion on dress. The fashionable fop or beau enveloped 
his head in a well powdered wig, which needed con- 
stant attention, and his neck and wrists in lace ruffles. 
His coat he threw open to display his costly shirt. 
He encased his legs in tight-fitting knickerbockers, 
and his feet in high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. 
For the street he added to this costume a cocked hat, 
a diamond-hilted sword, a cane, which hung by a loop 
from his coat, and not infrequently, if the w^eather 
were cold, a muff. 

5. The ^^^® woman of fashion was a spirited 

Woman of coquettc. Her coquetry, however, 
Fashion tliough it charmed the men of her own 

circle, would be altogether too pretentious to please 
any one today. She was an affected creature. On 
pleasant days she would throw a scarlet cloak over 
her shoulders, and with her lap-dog or her monkey 
under her arm, mince down the street to see the 
fashions. She had just given up her towering head- 
dress;^ her petticoats, says the Spectator, "were blown 
into an enormous concave, ' ' and her feet were propped 

1 Within my own memory, I have known it rise and f alF 
above thirty degrees. About ten years ago, it shot up to a 
very great height, insomuch that the female part of our species 
were much taller than the men. . . . At present the whole 
sex is in a manner dwarfed and shrunk into a race of beauties 
that seems almost another species. I remember several ladies, 
who were once very near seven foot high, that at present want 
some inches of five; how they came to be thus curtailed I 
cannot learn. — The Spectator, June 22, 1711. 



INTEODUCTION 17 

up on high-heeled shoes. One device she had for 
giving dignity to her appearance ; she powdered her 
hair and face, and then set off her complexion by 
little pieces of black silk or velvet, called ''patches." 
Skillful hands made such devices charming, but the 
hands of the ordinary woman scattered the powder 
clumsily and multiplied the patches till they became 
absurd. On depressing days, the great lady stayed 
at home and nursed her one cherished ailment, for 
every fashionable woman chose to consider herself 
subject to the blues, or, as she called them, the 
"vapors." On these occasions she was moody, irri- 
table, and when crossed, might, if she were only 
fashionable enough, become hysterical. 

Dancinf]^ was the only active exercise in 

6. Fashion- . ^ p r. • 

able Amuse- whicli the woman of fashion ever thought 

^®^*^ of indulging. She went through the 

Opera . 

mysteries of the masked ball, the compli- 
cated steps of the minuet or the country-dance (or, as 
we should say, square dance), bet with men at the 
gaming table, saw Powell, practically the inventor of 
Punch and Judy, exhibit his puppet-show in Covent 
Garden, or visited the playhouse. In those days, there 
were only two such houses in town and one of them 
was devoted to the latest thing from Italy, the Opera. 
In vain, actors, playwrights, and dramatic critics tried 
to cry it down. It did not seem to them to be folloiving 
nature, or as we would say today, to be natural. 
They saw no reason why every performance should 
contain just eighteen arias, sung in a language few 



18 INTKODUCTION 

understood, why these should be distributed evenly 
between exactly three male and three female singers, 
and why the men, no matter how heroic the part 
they were acting, should all be sopranos and altos 
rather than good, honest tenors and basses. But even 
in the eighteenth century it was human nature to 
like novelty, and the great opera singer Signor 
NicoUni Grimaldi was a novelty who could please. 
Even his enemies had to admit the "clear, strong 
sweetness of his tones" and "the statuesque beauty 
of his postures." 

7. Life at the The theater, however, was still the place 
Theater where the stranger would turn for the 

display of all sorts and conditions of men. Here, at 
six o'clock, the world gathered to see and to be seen, 
to hear and to be heard. The upper gallery held the 
noisy artisans, mechanics, body-servants, and appren- 
tices of the town. Fashionable lords and ladies, more 
conscious of their brilliant costumes than of the per- 
formance, adorned the boxes^ or even hired chairs from 
the players and sat on the stage. Not to be outdone 
in splendor, the players, Avhatever the performance, 
dressed in the latest fashions. Cato would wear a 
wig, and an ancient British maiden a modern head- 
dress. Fops in the audience, afraid they were not 
getting attention enough by their ogling and finery, 
picked quarrels and drew their swords. Sydney, in 
his England and the English in the Eighteenth Cen- 

1 Front boxes were generally reserved for the ladies ; side 
l>oxes for the gentlemen. 



INTEODUCTION 19 

tury, describes one siich. affray. ''One evening, in 
1720, while the celebrated actress, Mrs. Oldfield, was 
captivating an audience with ^ her impersonation, of 
The Scornful Lady, Beau Kobert Fielding . . . 
insulted a barrister named Fulwood by pushing rudely 
against him. Fulwood loudly expostulating, the beau 
clapped his hand upon his sword. Fulwood drew his, 
and ran it into the body of his antagonist, who walked 
off exhibiting his bleeding wound to the audience in 
order to excite the pity of the fair sex. Greatly to his 
chagrin, the ladies laughed loudly at his misfortune. ' ^ 
3. The '^^^ lower gallery held the plain and 

Polished Substantial citizens, and the pit, the 

" ^^^ barristers, law students, and young mer- 

chants of note on the exchange. Well toward the front 
were the self-appointed critics who were versed in 
plays and whose judgment, even more than the cat- 
calls, of the upper gallery, determined the fate of a 
new venture. These students of the drama admired 
the good counsel that comes from discretion and ex- 
perience ; even a comedy they thought pleasanter if it 
had a lesson in prudent living, tactfully expressed. 
They prided themselves, too, on the quickness and pro- 
priety of their judgment. This made them enjoy those 
neat distinctions, neatly put, that were called wit. 
Above all, they expected the dramatist to avoid the 
eccentric and the extraordinary and to furnish an 
agreeable entertainment for their normal, rational 
feelings. 



20 INTKODUCTION 

9. The Taste "^^^ ^^^^^ people of the upper gallery 
of the Upper had a taste very different from this. 

aiiery Many of them were full of miraculous 

legends, repeated by generation to generation since the 
middle ages and made more absurd and childish with 
each retelling. Every apprentice probably knew the 
story of the marvelous London Prentice, who, in a 
far-away pagan land, won a Mohammedan princess 
for himself and his religion, and with his own bare 
hands tore the hearts of wicked, unchristian lions 
out through their throats. This tale could be bought 
for a penny or so in a little leaflet, crudely printed 
and crudely illustrated. So, too, could the stories of 
other Christian heroes who slaughtered pagans, killed 
dragons, rescued ladies, and, unlike the London Pren- 
tice^ cherished lions and converted them to peace and 
gentleness. From the same earlier, cruder ages there 
had also come down romantic narratives^ in rough 
verse, once sung by w^andering minstrels and now faith- 
fully repeated by grandsires to their households or 
hawked in cheap copies on the street. So simple, and 
homely, and genuine were some of the touches of feel- 
ing in these tales that a few learned people had begun 
to collect them as curiosities. But no polished writer 
thought of imitating them. They seemed too clownish. 
The man of taste preferred the air of good breeding 
and easy elegance of manner which he could associate 
with good dress, good form, and an enviable position in 
society. He was of the same mind as the great 

1 For further details, see Ballads in the Glossary. 



INTEODUCTION 21 

French critic Boileau, who about this time was sug- 
gesting some such advice as this: 'Avoid the ignoble, 
the language of the market place, of the country, of 
the street corner. If you are Avriting a pastoral, don 't 
make your shepherds talk like villagers. Follow the 
example of Virgil and Theocritus. ... In their 
learned verses they can show you how to animate two 
shepherds to a contest on the flute. ' 

10. Classical There was probably not a man of taste 
^^^*® in all London who did not wish a few 
apt Latin quotations at his command while he lived 
and a Latin epitaph on his tombstone after he had 
died. In his moments of leisure he was apt to turn 
to the dexterous verse of Horace on the A^^t of Poetry^ 
or the grave and polished lines of Virgil, as perfect 
examples of civilized writing. In the same spirit, he 
turned to Homer, totally unconscious of the fact that 
the tales in the Iliad and Odyssey were, like the 
ballads he despised so much, old popular traditions 
long before they had taken their composite shape 
under Homer's pen.^ To him, Homer, Virgil, Horace, 
and the highly artificial authors of the French court 
of his day were all equally men of taste and all equally 
set an example of good sense, good form, and good 
h reeding. 

11. Ktiies of Fifty years after the last Spectator was 
the Drama written, an obscure English writer 
w^as to say : * ' Every one has some natural bent or pas- 

1 For further details, see Heroic Poems, Homer, Virgil, 
Horace, and Boileau, in the Glossary. 



22 INTRODUCTION 

sion, something peculiar in his genius, which if he 
does not follow, he will never be able to speak or 
write with any success." But in the days of Steele 
and Addison, critics cared not a whit for a ruling 
bent or passion, except in some tragic hero or co'mic 
butt. What they prized was deference to established 
principles or rules. Such rules, attributed to the 
ancient Aristotle, were constantly on their lips, and 
the. rigid treatises of modern French critics, Bossu, 
Dacier, and Hapin, always at their elbow.^ 

''If you would know our manner of 

12. Coffee , . . , , . „ , 

Houses and living, writcs a man oi the period, 
Chocolate ' ' '|^jg ^]^^g . -^q p^gg j^y -j^iyiq and those 

Souses 

that frequent great men's levees find en- 
tertainment at them till eleven, or, as in Holland, go to 
tea tables ; about twelve the beau monde assembles in 
coffee or chocolate houses. If it be fine, we take a turn 
in the Park till two, when we go to dinner." It Avas 
to these coffee or chocolate houses that a stranger 
would turn if he wished to find out what the men of 
London were interested in and thoughtful about. They 
were the places of rendezvous for the wits, the gallants, 
the politicians, the poets, the merchants, the essayists 
of the age. The highwayman who, well-masked, had 
robbed you the night before as you rode into London 
might brush against you as you laid your penny of 
admission down at the bar. The great Dr. Swift, the 
satirist of the town, might be stalking up and down, 
grim and silent, between the tables. ]\Iany a poor 
1 For further details, see Unities in the Glossary. 



INTEODUCTION 23 

scribbler for the booksellers, who slept all night in a 
garret, picked out some coffee house as his regular 
place of address, and made all his appointments and 
received his few letters there. It was the place to 
see the latest fashion of the fop, to hear the brilliant 
conversation of men of letters, and to learn the news 
of the English armies operating against the French. 

13 STJeciai ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ thousand coffee houses in 
Coffee London at this time, the oldest was the 

Houses Grecian, the resort of the Learned Club. 

At Will's, situated over a retail shop near Covent 
Garden and the theaters, the wits and the poets had 
congregated for years. The great poet Dryden had 
gathered all his disciples there ; but one of the editors 
of the Spectator, Joseph Addison, had set up a new 
literary circle at Button's, and AVill's was losing some 
of its old reputation. Card playing, not wit, w^as 
now its chief attraction. Child's, in St. Paul's 
churchyard, was frequented by ecclesiastics and 
other professional men, Jonathan's by stockjobbers, 
Lloyd 's by the wine merchants and ship brokers, intent 
on transacting business, Giles's and the Rainbow by 
French Protestants, exiled from France because of 
their religion, Garraway's by commercial people, 
Jenny Mann's coffee house in the Tilt Yard, by 
*' military and mock-military fellows who manfully 
pulled the noses of quiet citizens who wore not 
swords," the Chocolate House, also known as the 
Cocoa Tree, by the Tories, and St. James by the Whigs. 
There is a tale of this last coffee house worth quoting 



24 INTEODUCTION 

because it concerns the chief editor of the Spectator, 
Sir Richard Steele. "Lord Forbes," says the nar- 
rator, "happened to be in company with . . . two 
military gentlemen ... in St. James's Coffee House, 
when two or three well dressed men, all unknown jto 
his lordship or to his company, came into the room, 
and in a public, outrageous manner abused Captain 
Steele as the author of the Tatler. One of them, with 
great audacity and vehemence, swore that he would 
cut Steele's throat or teach him better manners. 'In 
this country,' said Lord Forbes, 'you will find it easier 
to cut a purse than to cut a throat.' His brother 
officers joined with his lordship, and turned the cut- 
throats out with every mark of disgrace." 

By this time the thoughtful reader will 

14. The City _ '^ . ^ i n i 

begin to wonder where all the money 
came from to support the life of London. It came 
from great landed estates in the country on the one 
hand, and from a rapidly growing commerce on the 
other. "When I have been upon the 'Change'^" says 
the Spectator, in one of its issues, "I have often fan- 
cied one of our old kings standing in person where he 
is represented in effigy and looking down upon the 
wealthy concourse of people with which that place is 
every day filled. In this case how would he be sur- 
prised to hear all the languages of Europe spoken in 
this little spot of his former dominions, and to see so 
many private men, who in his time would have been 
the vassals of some powerful baron, negotiating like 

1 Exchange. 



INTEODUCTION 25 

princes for greater sums of money than were formerly 
to be met with in the royal treasury. ' ' The commu- 
nity centering about this enormous mine of wealth 
was called in distinction from the court and the 
aristocracy the "city," and its members were known 
as "citizens." In this region were gathered the great 
merchants of the realm. Every day they increased in 
power ; every day they grew prouder of their increas- 
ing wealth. Their wealth, however, could not save 
them from the witticisms of the clever fellows about 
town. Too often, indeed, the witticisms were well 
deserved. The average merchant was apt to be pom- 
pous and self-important, and the very fact that he 
could not get admittance to a lord's levees or a 
lady's routs^ only made him strut a little more 
vaingloriously among those he thought his inferiors 
in fortune or position. 

15 The ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ from the "city," however, 

landed that men of fashion drew their wealth. 

Interest j^ Came for the most part from the rents 

of landed estates in the country. This land had 
descended to them from their fathers, and, however 
great the debts which they slipped off their shoulders 
when they too went to their graves, this land would 
for the most part descend to their eldest sons, who 
could neither dispose of it nor bequeath it elsewhere. 
Creditors might make up their losses as best they 
could ; and younger sons, at least those who could not 

1 The term used for fashionable assemblies in the eighteenth 
century. 



26 INTEODUCTION 

live on the generosity of their elder brothers, were left 
to their own resources. To these younger sons, only 
three kinds of employment seemed honorable, — state- 
craft, fighting in her Majesty's army or navy, and the 
Church; or, if the estates of the father had been 
comparatively small, they might without disgrace try 
law or medicine. Meanwhile, their elder brothers kept 
up the honor of the family name. 
16 Travel Many landlords, however, seldom if ever 
into the saw the city of London. To know their 

oun ry manner of life, one must travel into the 

country districts; and journeying was slow and dan- 
gerous. Every highway of importance was marked 
by gibbets, and from many a gibbet hung the corpse 
of a highwayman. The coaches were without springs, 
and the roads were almost intolerable. ''On the best 
lines of communication," says one writer, "ruts were 
so deep and obstructions so formidable that it was 
only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the 
road became available. Seldom could two vehicles 
pass each other unless one of them stopped." The 
inns along the route were identified to a passer-by by 
their grotesque signs, but to the old stager they must 
have stood out even more distinctly for the oddities 
of the host or hostess. Few of these worthies probably 
had ever stepped out of their own county. Many of 
them probably had never been a half-day's ride from 
home. A journey made from county to county was 
like an ocean voyage thirty years ago. The passengers 
quickly got acquainted. And wherever they stopped 



INTKODUCTION 27 

the men always paid for the women's refreshments as 
well as their own. 

17. The ^^ ^^^ ^^^y after some such journey as 

coimtry this that one came into the petty terri- 

en eman tories of the small country gentleman, 
where, the year round, he lived among his tenants. 
His house was usually either of plaster striped with 
timber, or else of red brick with long bow-windows. 
Unpleasantly close to his house was his stable, and 
usually the whole space betw^een was little better than 
a stable-yard. The owner himself was generally a 
roistering fellow Avho devoted his attention to hunting, 
cock-fighting, smoking, drinking, and lording it over 
his neighbors. He could follow the fox or the hare 
wherever it went, tliough he trampled do^^m the stand- 
ing grain on his tenants' or his neighbors' estates. 
If his income were of a certain figure, he might con- 
fiscate to his own use the guns, nets, and traps which 
he found in the possession of the man of more ordi- 
nary m.eans. In his pleasures, the law gave him the 
privileges of a petty despot. 

18. Tiie '^^^ administration of much of the 

Country county law was left in the hands of the 

Squire country gentlemen. The humblest office 

open to them was that of justice of the peace, which 
brought with it the honorary title of "Squire." In 
this capacity, they gave marriage certificates, bound 
disorderly persons over to keep the peace, and in 
criminal courts, meeting quarterly and known as 
quarter-sessions, administered the highway, game, and 



28 INTEODUCTION 

poor laws. Twice a year the judges of the superior 
courts held court sessions — known as assizes — in the 
various counties of England, and summoned such 
squires as were "eminent for knowledge and pru- 
dence" to sit with them. This body of "eminent" 
squires was known as the quorum. In addition to 
receiving such honors, the landed gentleman might be 
elected "Sheriff of the County," an office which gave 
him the right to appear on state occasions in court 
dress ; or, if he were a knight, he might be elected to 
Parliament as "knight (or member) of the shire." 
Many a squire would have found it impossible to 
administer even the simple office of justice of the 
peace had it not been for the clever coaching of his 
clerk. In almost every case his pretensions to learning 
were very slight. He had had perhaps a year or so 
at the University, but even there he had devoted him- 
self more to roistering than to learning, and when he 
had returned to his estates he was usually quite willing 
to settle back into his old ignorance. His knowledge 
of law was drilled into him by his clerk ; as for a 
knowledge of literature, he was content to pick up 
from some book popular in the country regions a few 
proverbial expressions, with which he flavored his 
conversation on all occasions. 

19. The Besides its rents to the landlords, every 

Church farm had to pay one-tenth of its yearly 

produce to the support of the Church. This organiza- 
tion was a great political institution. Membership in 
it, like the oath to support the Constitution, was a sign 



INTEODUCTION 29 

of patriotism, not of religious devotion. Parliament 
not only settled what the rites of the Chnrch should 
be, but refused political ofP^ce to any one who had not 
taken the communion according to those rites. ^ The 
great prizes in the Church occasionally went to men 
of brilliant talents; quite as often, perhaps, to men 
who had family influence and a little cleverness of 
their own to back them; they seldom fell to men of 
religious earnestness. Many of the clergy spent their 
time enjoying the pleasures of London, and seldom 
saw the steeples of their own parish churches. Even 
of those who lived in their parishes, a large number 
gave most of their time to farming, hunting, drinking, 
and gambling. "I found a parson drunk," writes 
Dean Swift, in one of his letters; ''fighting with a 
seaman, and Patrick and I were so wise as to part 
them, but the seaman followed him to Chelsea, cursing 
at him, and the parson slipped into a house, and so I 
know no more. It mortified me to see a man in my 
coat^ so overtaken." The right of appointing a 
clergyman to any particular church belonged usually 
to some landed proprietor, who generally exercised it 

1 A great many Protestants refused to acknowledge the 
Church of England as the only true Church, but a number even 
of these would sometimes take its communion in order to hold 
some political office. This occasional conformity, as it was 
called, caused great annoyance to true worshipers. For fur- 
ther details regarding the religious difficulties of the times see 
Conventicle, Dissenter, Nonconformist, Presbyterians, and Civil 
War in the Glossary. 

- In the garb or livery of my profession. 



30 INTRODUCTION 

to repay a political favor, to push the fortunes of his 
own relations, or to satisfy his own whims. From the 
duke to the squire, every landed proprietor had in his 
employ a domestic chaplain. On small country estates, 
this poor fellow was treated as a sort of man of all 
work. ' ' In addition to digging for an hour or two daily 
in the garden or the orchard, ' ' says a historian of the 
period, he "was required to bring the hope of the 
family past the wearisome bitterness of his learning, 
to check the rent-book and the miller's score, to shoe 
the horses, to say grace at meals, and to withdraw as 
soon as the cheese and tarts made their appearance 
on the table. " "I always keep a chaplain, ' ' wrote one 
bitter satirist, ' ' to drink my foul wine for me. ' ' 
20. The ^^^ through the eighteenth century, 

whig-s and there were two great political parties in 
the Tories England, the Tories and the Whigs. The 
Tory wished all the powers of government to be in the 
hands of the landed families, which had inherited their 
wealth and their reputation from a remote past. The 
three things dear to a Tory 's heart were old times, old 
families, and great estates. The Whig, on the other 
hand, cared little for old times; he respected wealth 
wherever it came from, and wished every prosperous 
man to have an honorable share in the government. 
Three quarters of a century before, a quarrel similar to 
that between the Whigs and the Tories had begun 
between the Stuart kings of England on the one hand 
and the House of Commons on the other. They had 



INTEODUCTION 31 

fought against each other through two civil wars.^ 
Finally the House of Commons had triumphed, and 
set up sovereigns of their own choosing ; but the Tory 
always looked back a bit wistfully to the time when 
the men of the Stuart line were kings by sheer right 
of birth, and he suspected every Whig of being a 
republican in disguise. The Whig, on the other hand, 
was devotedly loyal to his Protestant sovereign, Queen 
Anne, and believed, with a good- deal of justice, that 
the Tories were plotting to bring back the old and 
hated dynasty. The Tory's religious prejudices were 
affected by the political questions of the time, and he 
counted every political opponent an enemy of the 
Church. The Whig was a bigoted Protestant, and 
suspected his opponents of being Roman Catholics.- 
Both parties were led by great rival families who 
handed down their intense jealousies of one another 
from generation to generation. The most important 
difference between them, however, was one of self- 
interest. The country gentry and the clergy were 
Tories because their interests were wrapped up in the 
preservation of the landed estates; the great mer- 
chants were Whigs because their prosperity was 
dependent on the growing commerce of England. The 
intensity of party feeling it would be hard to describe. 
When the Tories came into power, a Tory mob burned 
Whig chapels and religious meeting-houses; later, 

1 For further details, see Civil War in the Glossary. 
- Severe laws were in force to restrict the political and 
religious activities of Eoman Catholics. 



32 



INTEODUCTION 



courtiers and fine ladies aired their personal and 
political quarrels before the Queen; and even the 
editors of the Spectator, hard as they had labored to 
introduce good nature and kindness into political life, 
could not escape the spirit of the times. Their long 
and earnest friendship ended in political differences 
and personal bitterness. 

During much of this time, England was 
21. Tiie war ^^^^^-^^^ ^ brilliant but protracted wai 

against France and Spain.^ To fill up her navy 
ships' crews were kidnapping able-bodied men fron 
the streets ; to fill up her armies, the recruiting ser- 
geant was going through the country districts, gather- 
ing in the criminals from the jails and coaxing hones- 
men, when drunk, to enlist for a few shillings. Thes* 
men were led by active young fellows of good famiy 
who had bought their lieutenancies or captaincies f' 
some hundreds of pounds ; and over them all was ti. 
great but dishonest commander, Marlborough. Brh 
liant as were some of the English victories, most of th( 
people were growing tired of the war. Taxes wer( 
heavy, and the corruption among the army officers wa 
becoming more and more scandalous. From the start 
it had been a Whig war, for the Whigs had seen tha 
it was bound to increase the West Indian commerce o 
England; but the Tories were now in power and ij 
their eyes the war appeared to be doing little good, i 
was at this juncture that the greatest of the Englis 
allies, the Austrian general, Prince Eugene, visite 
1 For further details, see Louis XIV in the Glossary. 



INTEODUCTION 33 

England to change, if lie could, tlie current of English 
feeling. At first it seemed as if he might be success- 
ful. Even the Tories received him with homage, for 
they could not forget his military skill and courage, 
and he never ventured on the streets without being 
surrounded by eager crowds. With all his courtesy 
and skill, however, his arguments finally gave offense. 
Tory society gave him the cold shoulder, and men who 
made their living by writing Tory pamphlets uttered 
the sentiments of the English government by abusing 
him with foul language. 

22. Pam- The place of the modern editorial writer 

phieteers q^i ^ daily paper was taken in old times 

by these bitter, scurrilous pamphleteers. No degree of 

personal slander was too coarse for them. Afraid, 

owever, of the law, or else of a sound cudgeling at 

le hands of their victim, they tried to cover up their 

:'ull meaning under an absurd system of stars and 

dashes. Most of these pamphlets would seem dull to 

the average reader of today. Any one with a cpiick 

wit, however, can detect what they must have been 

like from the following good-humored caricature of 

them which appears in the pages of the Spectator: 

''If there are four Persons in the Nation who en- 

ieavour to bring all things into Confusion and ruin 

heir native Country, I think every honest Engl-shm-n 

ought to be on his guard. That there are such every 

ane will agree with me, who hears me name * * * 

vith his first Friend and Favourite * * * not 

to mention * * * nor * * * These People 



34 INTEODUCTION 

may cry Ch-rch, Ch-rch, as long as they please, but 
to make use of a homely Proverb, the proof of the 
P-dd-ng is in the eating. '^ ^ ^ -^ l love to 
speak out and declare my mind clearly when I am 
talking for the Good of my Country. I will not make 

my Court to an ill Man, tho' he were a B y or a 

T 1. Nay, I would not stick to call so wretched 

a Politician, a Traitor, an Enemy to his Country, 
and a Bl-nd-rb-ss, etc., etc." 

23. Jour- When the Spectator published its first 

naiists issue, daily papers were a comparatively 

new^ thing. The first one ever established in England 
— The Daily Coiirant — had begun but nine years 
before, and even then in very primitive fashion. It 
was fourteen inches long, eight inches wide, and was 
printed only on one side of the sheet. The reading 
matter of the first issue consisted of zix short para- 
graphs translated from the foreign papers. For news, 
people still depended on the coffee house, on pam- 
phlets, on queer little tri-weeklies like the Postboy, the 
Supplement, or the Evening Post, and on what was 
called the newsletter, a little manuscript journal writ- 
ten out b}^ the editor with his own pen on a sheet of 
fine paper and then painfully copied on similar sheets 
by his clerks. Half even of this sheet was left blank 
that the purchaser might add to it his own private 
business before he mailed it to his friends in the 
country. ''It was our custom at Sir Roger's," says 
the Spectator, in one of its issues, "upon the coming 
in of the post to sit about a pot of coffee, and hear the 



INTEODUCTION 35 

old Knight read Dyer's Letter; which he does with 
his spectacles upon his nose, and in an audible voice 
— smiling very often at those little strokes of satire 
which are so frequent in the writings of that author." 
On account of the heavy restrictions still hampering 
the freedom of the press, the news of the weeklies was 
meager, misleading, and always expressed with a great 
show of mystification ; and even after the editors of 
the Tatler and the Spectator set a better fashion, the 
ordinary journalist in England was little better than 
an irresponsible and mischievous gossip. 
24. The ^^ takes the nicest sort of skill to civ- 

spectator ^ ilize barbarians who already think them- 
Ag-am selves the most civilized of men; and 

this is really what the Tatler and the Spectator set 
out to do. For people whose whole thought had been 
bent on following the latest affectation in dress, oaths, 
coquetry, and dueling, they set up simple and wiioie- 
some ideals of life and made them popular. They 
commented on the little things of daily life, jested 
at foibles and follies, and in general made vanity 
amusing, ostentation ridiculous, and meanness con- 
temptible. They contained some pleasant raillery for 
those who thought it religious to wear long faces, and 
they contained tokens of respect for the clergyman 
who did his duty in quiet, unostentatious fidelity. They 
brought different classes of people together, and 
showed the Whig and the Tory "what a large extent 
of ground they might occupy in common. ' '^ Wisdom 

1 Coiirtliorpe, Addison in the English Men of Letters Series, 



36 INTEODUCTION 

they brougM ' ' out of closets and libraries, schools and 
colleges to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea tables 
and coffee houses. ' '^ 

25. Joseph The chief contributor to these journals 
Addison ^^j^^ Joseph Addison, a scholar, poet, and 

diplomatist, then just in his prime. His early home 
life might seem too grave and formal to suit the 
children of today, but when Addison was young, all 
courtesy had something grave and formal in it, and 
the circle that gathered under the Addison roof was 
at heart very simple and natural. His father was 
Dean of Litchfield, a gentleman who had traveled in 
France and Tangiers, and had written works highly 
esteemed in their time ; his two brothers were of ' ' ex- 
cellent talent," and his sister Dorothy was "a kind 
of wit, v( ry like her brother. ' ' At fifteen years of age 
young Addison entered the University of Oxford. By 
the time he was twenty-one, his reputation as a man 
of taste and scholarship had reached the men of letters 
in London, Six years later, on the strength of some 
conventional verse he had written, he received a pen- 
sion of £300 a year, that he might fit himself for 
diplomatic service abroad. He spent a year in France,, 
traveled into Italy, where, "at every turn, his memory 
suggested fresh quotations from the whole range of 
Latin poetry," visited Vienna, and returned to Eng- 
land in 1703 On his return he was invited to join 
the famous Kit-Cat Club, composed of the leaders of 
the great Whig party. A little later, he wrote to 
^Spectator, No. 10. 



INTRODUCTION 37 

order a poem to commemorate the victory which the 
great Whig general, Marlborough, had won at 
Blenheim. Of this poem, The Campaign, one brief 
description of Marlborough is still remembered: 



Calm and serene, he drives the furious blast; 
And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform^ 
. Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. 



But, as a whole, the poem, though finished and schol- 
arly, might well be forgotten. It is, in fact, rather a 
tedious performance. Nevertheless, for this verse he 
was made Under Secretary of State. In 1705, he tried 
his hand at the libretto for an opera, with no success. 
In 1709, he was appointed Secretary to the Lord- 
Lieutenant of Ireland, where he first began the sort 
of essays for which the Tatler and the Spectator have 
made him famous. In 1711, while the Spectator was 
coming out, he purchased an estate in Warwickshire 
for £10,000; in 1713, he saw his play of Cato acted 
before enthusiastic throngs at the theater; in 1716, 
he married Lady Warwick ; in 1717, he was made a 
Secretary of State. He retired in 1718, with a pension 
of £1500, and died one year later, when still only 
forty-seven years of age. 

26 Addison During all these ups and down of polit- 
at the Coffee ical fortune, he was mingling with men 
of affairs as well as men of letters, was 
writing political pamphlets as well as literary essays. 
With all his pleasure in learning, he lived as much 



38 INTEODUCTION 

among people as among books, and, though in his light 
and easy style, he touched often, perhaps too often, 
on the little oddities in feminine fashions, he lived 
more among men than among women. A man's man, 
he was seldom to be seen at fashionable assemblies. 
He was most at home in the coffee house which Button, 
an old servant of his or Lady Warwick's, had estab- 
lished in Covent Garden. Here, with his tobacco and 
his wine, he sat late into the night, his friends and 
admirers gathered around him. He, if any one, was 
counted the leader among the great wits and writers 
of the time. Other men were abler than he, but none 
of them had the modesty and sweetness of temper, the 
lightness and delicacy of wit, the graceful simplicity 
of language which made the quiet Addison, when he 
was stimulated by his friends or his surroundings, the 
master of every conversation in which he took part. 
Even the envious but wonderfully clever Pope 
acknowledged that Addison "had something more 
charming in his conversation than I ever knew in any 
other man," and the bitter, cynical Swift declared 
that often as they spent their evenings together he 
never wished for a third person. "If he had a mind 
to be chosen king, ' ' said that same biting satirist, with 
an enthusiastic humor quite unlike his usual self, "he 
Vvould hardly be refused." 

27. Prudent There is another side to the picture, how- 
Mr. Addison ever. Just, kindly, often forbearing in 
his friendship, he never quite forgot to be prudent 
when a friend asked help of him. He was more likely 



INTEODUCTION 39 

to give a spendthrift good counsel than to lend him 
his purse in hearty, open fashion. When it was 
proposed that he let off an old acquaintance from some 
official fee, he good-humoredly replied : ^ ' I have forty 
friends whose fees may be worth two guineas apiece ; I 
lose eighty guineas and my friends gain but two 
apiece." He was in truth a bit cold-blooded in his 
friendships. ' ' I ask no favor of Mr. Secretary Addi- 
son, ' ' wrote Steele, too proud to solicit from a life-long 
colleague a kindness w^hich a more generous man than 
Addison would have proffered off-hand. 
28. His ^^et few men in literary life have been 

Kindly Spirit more considerate ; few men have guarded 
more calmly and steadily against giving unnecessary 
pain. There is in his wittiest satires something of the 
same quietness, something of the same placidity which 
pervades his familiar evening hymn : 

Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
And nightly to the listening earth 
Eepeats the story of her birth; 
And all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn. 
Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
"What though, in solemn silence, all 
Move round this dark, terrestrial ball; 
"What though no real voice or sound, 
Among their radiant orbs be found; 
In reason's ear they all rejoice. 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing as they shine. 
The hand that made us is divine. 



40 INTEODUCTION , 

29. Dick When the young Addison went up to the 

Steele famous Charterhouse school in London 

to finish his preparation for the university, he met 
among the pupils there a boy, six weeks his senior, who 
was destined to become his benefactor, his gallant 
follower, his colleague, his life-long admirer, and 
except for a sorry political quarrel at the very close 
of Addison's life, his life-long friend. At this time 
young Steele was under the care of an uncle, for his 
father had died when he was but five years old, and 
his mother had died soon after. ''I remember," he 
writes, speaking of his father's death, "I went into 
the room where his body lay and my mother sat weep- 
ing alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and 
fell a-beating the coffin and calling ' Papa, ' for, I know 
not how, I had some slight idea he was locked up there. 
My mother catched me in her arms, and transported 
beyond all patience of the silent grief she was before 
in, she almost smothered me in her embrace, and told 
me in a flood of tears, Papa could not hear me, and 
would play with me no m^ore, for they were going to 
put him underground, w^hence he could never come to 
us again." 

30 The Steele followed Addison to the univer- 

DetaUs of sity, but he was so eager to join in the 
His Life ^^^^_^ which w^as then waging against 

France that he could not stay to graduate. In 1694, 
he enlisted as a private gentleman in the second troop 
of life-guards. A few years later, he became a captain. 
His military ambitions had not kept him from trying 



INTEODUCTIOlSr 41 

his pen in a literary venture or so, and by 1700 he 
was well known to some of the chief wits of the time. 
In the same year, one or two of his acquaintances 
having thought fit to misuse him and try their valor 
upon him, he fought a duel in Hyde Park with a 
Captain Kelly, whom he wounded dangerously, though 
not mortally. "This occurrence laid the foundation 
of that dislike of dueling which he ever after ex- 
hibited. " Finding his military life exposed to much 
irregularity, he wrote his treatise on The Christian 
Hero, to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of 
virtue and religion. This treatise he afterwards pub- 
lished "as a standing admonition against himself." 
He helped purify the, stage by writing clean plays, 
was for a time the editor of the official newspaper of 
the court, the Gazette, and on the 12th of April, 1709, 
laid the foundation of his permanent fame by starting 
a tri-weekly journal of essays, called the Tatler. To 
this journal Addison, then in Ireland, was a frequent 
and welcome contributor. A little later, the paper 
gave way to a new undertaking of theirs, the Spectator. 
In 1713, Steele was elected a member of Parliament. 
"Expelled from the House of Commons by the inso- 
lent and unmanly sanction of a majority," he was 
again elected to that body in 1715. In 1718, he lost his 
wife, who was buried in "Westminster Abbey. From 
that time on he engaged in theatrical affairs,^ wrote 
his fourth comedy, risked and lost his money in wildcat 

1 Appointed by the king pensioner on the Drury Lane Theater, 
he proved of invaluable help in the success of the enterprise. 



42 INTEODUCTION 

ventures, and finally withdrew to a small estate in 
Wales, where he died in 1729/ 

31 His '^^^ most characteristic thing about 

Frankness Steele 's face w^as the ' ' Irish vivacity that 

of Temper lighted up his eyes. ' ' He was one of the 
most sanguine of mortals, always active and always 
confident that his latest venture would make him his 
fortune. It is said that an alchemist once duped him 
into believing that he could discover the philosopher's 
stone which should turn all things into gold. How- 
ever this may be, so lively were his hopes of winning 
prosperity that on the strength of them he always ran 
beyond his income, and was always beset by creditors 
w^ho somehow did not share his confidence. The cour- 
age with which he faced the future made him all the 
franker to acknowledge the shortcomings of his past. 
There was never any cowardly attempt on his part to 
bolster up his reputation. When a correspondent took 
him to task in the Tatler for letting a piece of gross- 
ness slip into one of his comedies, he accepted the 
correction, dwelt good-humoredly but soundly on its 
truth, and corrected the fault in the next edition of 
the play. His modesty was of a brave, outspokcA 
sort. He was never tired of acknowledging the debt 
he owed to Addison for criticizing and correcting his 
literary work. Any one, he declared of himself, could 
tell from the quality of his writings when Mr. 
Addison was at home and when abroad. 

1 For the facts of this paragraph and for very inuch of the 
phrasing, the editor is indebted to Mr. Austin Dobson's life of 
Steele in the English Worthies Series. 



^ INTRODUCTION 43 

32 His Steele, however, was high-spirited enough 

Simplicity to resent injustice even from Addison. 
of Peeling- -^^^ ^^^ estrangement which separated 
them during the closing days of Addison's life it is 
hard to see that Steele was in any sense to blame. 
Addison had attempted to confute him in a political 
argument. Not succeeding, perhaps, as well as he had 
hoped, and no doubt rendered peevish by the fatal 
illness from which he was suffering, he finally 
descended into irritating little personalities. At first 
Steele met t!lem with great good humor. At last, 
stung by the changed attitude of his old friend, he 
replied to them with pathetic but dignified reproaches 
that did credit to his own self-respect as well as to 
his loyalty toward old memories. In many ways, 
Steele remained all through his life an overgrow^n 
boy; he was apt to act first and think afterwards; 
{le never adapted means to ends; he took his chances 
that everything would come out right in the long run. 
But his loyalty and his courage were quickly 
aroused and he met the tests of friendship and 
the trials of life not only with sweetness of temper 
but with resoluteness of heart and dignity of bearing. 
Any one who would see with what affection, gallantry, 
dignity, wit, and humor, a very human husband can 
address a very petulant wife should read the letters^ 
1 The following may serve as illustrations : 

June 5th, 1708. 
Dear Prue: — ^What you would have me do I know not. All 
that my fortune will compasse you shall always enjoy, and 



44 IIsTEODUCTIOISr 

which this captain in the Coldstream Guards dashed 
off on the impulse of the moment to his wife. They 
are full of a kindly, half -humorous appeal to her }3est 
self. "I am told," says his old friend Victor in his 
Original Letters, ''that he retained his cheerful sweet- 
ness of temper to the last ; and would often be carried 
out on a summer 's evening, when the country lads and 
lasses were assembled at their several sports, and, with 
his pencil, give an order on his agent the mercer for 
a new gown for the best dancer." 
33. Dobson "There have been wiser, stronger, 
on Steele greater men," says Austin Dobson, 

"but many a strong man would have been stronger 
for a touch of Steele's indulgent sympathy; many 

have no body near you that You do not like except I am 
myself disapjDroved by You for being devotedly, 

Y'r Obedient Husband, 

Eich'd Steele. 
I shan^t come home till night. 

June 7th, 1708. 

Dear Prue:-t— I enclose you a Guiniea for y'r Pocket. I dine 
with Ld. Hallifax. 

I wish I knew how to Court you into Good-Humour, for 
Two or • Three Quarrels more will dispatch Me quite. If you 
have any Love for Me believe I am always pursuing our 
Mutual Good. Pray consider that all my little fortune is to be 
settled this m-onth and that T have inadvertently made myself 
Liable to Impatient People who take all advantages. If you 
have not patience I shall transact my businesse rashly and 
Lose a very great sum tc Quicken the time of yr being ridd of 
all people you don't like. Yrs Ever, 

Eich'd Steele. 



INTEODUCTION 45 

a great man has wanted Ms genuine largeness of heart, 
many a wise man might learn something from his 
deep and wide humanity." "If Addison," says the 
same critic, "delights us by his finish, he repels us 
by his restraint and absence of fervor ; if Steele is 
careless, he is always frank and genial. Addison's 
papers are faultless in their art, and in this v/ay 
achieve an excellence which is beyond the reach of 
Steele's quicker and more impulsive nature. But for 
words which the heart finds when the head is seeking ; 
for phrases glowing with the white-heat of a generous 
emotion; for sentences which throb and tingle with 
manly pity or courageous indignation, we must turn 
to the essays of Steele." 

34. A Picture 'i'he sketches in this volume contain but 
of the Age a small fraction of the literary work of 
Addison and Steele. The reader who, when he has 
finished these papers, goes no further in his acquaint- 
ance with these writers loses many of their picturesque 
essays. The Tatler and the Spectator have been read 
from generation to generation for their pleasant 
humor ; they have been read for their graceful style ; 
but most of all, perhaps, they have been read for their 
graphic pictures of a bygone age. "With the exception 
of Pepy's Diary ^ no English book exists today which 
tells with the same faithful detail how ancestors of 
ours have looked and acted. One who has familiarized 
himself with the Tatler and the Spectator can imag- 
ine himself at will among our barbarous yet ceremoni- 
ous ancestors of two hundred odd years ago. 



CHRONOLOGY 

1672 Steele born' (March 12) ; Addison born (May 1) ; 
William of Orange becomes ruler of Holland. 

1684 Steele enters the Charterhouse. 

1685 Charles II dies; James II succeeds to the throne; the 

Duke of Monmouth starts an unsuccessful Protestant 
rebellion; Louis XIV so oppresses the Protestants of 
France that many of them flee to England. 

1686 Addison enters the Charterhouse. 

1687 Addison enters Oxford. 

1688 The Revolution which drives James II from the kingdom. 

1689 William and Mary crowned; Toleration Act. 

1690 Steele enters Oxford. 

1692 Battles of La Hogue and Steenkirk. 

1694 Steele enters the army; Bank of England organized; 

Queen Mary dies. 
1697 Peace of Ryswick. 

1699 Addison begins his foreign travels. 

1700 Steele seriously wounds Captain Kelly in a duel; death 

of the King of Spain. 

1701 Steele publishes The Christian Sera; James II dies; 

war begun over the Spanish succession. 

1702 King William dies and Queen Anne is crowned. 

1703 Addison concludes his foreign travels. 

1704 Battle of Blenheim. 

1705 Steele marries. 

1706 Addison appointed an under secretary; Steele's first 

wife dies; Battle of Eamillies. 

1707 Steele marries Mistress Mary Scurlock; Battle of Al- 

manza. 

1708 Addison becomes Chief Secretary for Ireland. 

1 The dates in Steele's life are often only surmises. 

46 



CHRONOLOGY 47 

1709 Steele starts the Tatler and Addison becomes a con- 

tributor ; King of Sweden encamps near the borders of 
Eussia and Turkey. 

1710 Whigs go out of office and Tories take office; a lottery 

is conducted for the government. 

1711 Tatler discontinued; Spectator begun. Addison buys 

a large estate in Warwickshire. 

1712 The Spectator discontinued. 

1713 Guardian begun; Steele resigns his office under the 

government and attacks the party in power; he is 
elected a member of Parliament. 

1714 Steele is attacked in a pamphlet by Swift and expelled 

from the House of Commons for ' ' uttering a seditious 
libel;" Queen Anne dies and George I succeeds her; 
in consequence Steele is soon appointed to several 
lucrative offices. 

1715 Steele reelected to Parliament; death of Louis XIV; 

a rebellion begun in favor of the Stuarts; arrest of 
some members of Parliament for treason; the Free- 
holder begun, to support George I. 

1716 Addison marries Lady Warwick; the rebellion fails. 

1717 Addison made a Secretary of State. 

1718 Addison retires with a pension; Steele loses his second 

wife. 

1719 Addison and Steele quarrel; June 17, Addison dies. 
1722 Steele writes his best known play, The Conscious Lovers. 
1724 Steele retires to Wales. 

1729 September 1, Steele dies. . 

^^} /a. 



ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 



THE STOET OF A FABLE 

[From the Spectator, No. 512. — Addison. Friday, October 

17, 1712.] 

If we look into ancient histories, we find the wise 
men of old very often chose to give counsel to their 
kings in fables. To omit many which will occur to 
everyone's memory, there is a pretty instance of this 

5 nature in a Turkish tale, which I do not like the worse 
for that little oriental extravagance which is mixed 
with it. 

We are told that the Sultan Mahmoud, by his per- 
petual wars abroad and his tyranny at home, had 

10 filled his dominions with ruin and desolation, and 
half -unpeopled the Persian Empire. The vizier to 
this great sultan (whether an humorist or an enthusi- 
ast we are not informed) pretended to have learned 
of a certain dervish to understand the language of 

15 birds, so that there was not a bird that could open 
his mouth but the vizier knew what it was he said. 
As he was one evening with the emperor, in their 
return from hunting, they saw a couple of owls upon 

49 



50 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

a tree that grew near an old wall out of an heap of 
rubbish. ''I would fain know," says the sultan, 
''what those two owls are saying to one another; 
listen to their discourse and give me an account of it. ' ' 
The vizier approached the tree, pretending to be very 5 
attentive to the two owls. Upon his return to the 
sultan, "Sir," says he, ''I have heard part of their 
conversation, but dare not tell you what it is." The 
sultan would not be satisfied with such an answer, 
but forced him to repeat word for word everything 10 
the owls had said. ''You must know, then," said the 
vizier, ''that one of these owls has a son, and the other 
a daughter, between whom they are now upon a treaty 
of marriage. The father of the son said to the father 
of the daughter in my hearing, * Brother, I consent toiE 
this marriage, provided you will settle upon your 
daughter fifty ruined villages for her portion.' To 
which the father of the daughter replied, *^ Instead of 
fifty I will give her five hundred, if you please. God 
grant a long life to Sultan Mahmoud ! whilst he reigns 2c 
over us we shall never want ruined villages.' " 

The story says the sultan was so touched with the 
fable that he rebuilt the towns and villages which had 
been destroyed, and from that time forward consulted 
the good of his people. ^' 



II 

THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOR * 

[The Spectator, No. 10. — Addison. Monday, March 12, 1710-ll.J 

Non aliter quam qui adverse vix flumine lembum 
Eemigiis subigit, si bracchia forte remisit, 
Atque ilium praeceps prono rapit alveus amni.i 

— Virgil. 

It is with much satisfaction that I hear this great 
city inquiring day by day after these my papers, and 
receiving my morning lectures with a becoming serious- 
ness and attention. My publisher tells me that there 

5 are already three thousand of them distributed every 
day : so that if I allow twenty readers to every paper, 
which I look upon as a modest computation, I may 
reckon about threescore thousand disciples in London 
and Westminster, w^ho, I hope, will take care to distin- 

loguish themselves from the thoughtless herd of their 
ignorant and unattentive brethren. Since I have 
raised to myself so great an audience, I shall spare no 
pains to make their instruction agreeable, and their 

1 ' * . . . Like a boatman who just manages to make 
head against the stream, if the tension of his arms happens 
to relax, and the current whirls away the boat headlong down 
the river 's bed. ' ' 

— John Conington, 
51 



I 

52 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

^ diversion useful. For which reasons I shall endeavor 
to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit with 
morality, that my readers may, if possible, both ways^ 
find their account in the speculation of the day. And 
to the end that their virtue and discretion may not be 5 
short, transient, intermittent starts of thought, I have 
resolved to refresh their memories from day to day, 
till I have recovered them out of that desperate state 
of vice and folly into which the age is fallen. The 
mind that lies fallow but a single day sprouts up inio 
follies that are only to be killed by a constant and 
assiduous culture. It was said of Socrates that he 
brought philosophy down from heaven to inhabit 
among men ; and I shall be ambitious to have it said 
of me that I have brought philosophy out of closets 15 
and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs 
and assemblies, at tea tables and in coffee houses. 

I would, therefore, in a very particular manner 
recommend these my speculations to all well-regulated 
families that set apart an hour in every morning for 20 
tea and bread and butter, and would earnestly advise 
them for their good to order this paper to be punc- 
tually served up, and to be looked upon as a part of 
the tea equipage. 

Sir Francis Bacon observes that a well-written book, 25 
compared with its rivals and antagonists, is like 
Moses's serpent, that immediately swallowed up and 
devoured those of the Egyptians. I shall not be so 
vain as to think that where the Spectator appears 

1 Both ways; in both ways. _ 



THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOE 53 

the other public prints will vanish, but shall leave it 
to my reader's consideration whether, Is it not much 
better to be let into the knowledge of one's self than 
to hear what passes in Muscovy or Poland, and to 

5 amuse ourselves with such writings as tend to the 
wearing out of ignorance, passion, and prejudice than 
such as naturally conduce to inflame hatreds and 
make enmities irreconcilable ? 

In the next place, I would recommend this paper to 

10 the daily perusal of those gentlemen whom I cannot 
but consider as my good brothers and allies ; I mean 
the fraternity of spectators who live in the world 
without having anything to do in it, and either by the 
affluence of their fortunes or laziness of their disposi- 

15 tions have no other business with the rest of mankind 
but to look upon them. Under this class of men are 
comprehended all contemplative tradesmen, titular 
physicians, fellows of the Royal Society, Templars that 
are not given to b"e contentious, and statesmen that 

20 are out of business ; in short, everyone that considers 
the world as a theater and desires to form a right 
judgment of those who are the actors on it. 

There is another set of men that I must likewise lay 
a claim to, whom I have lately called the blanks of 

25 society, as being altogether unfurnished with ideas 
till the business and cunversation of the day has sup- 
plied them. I have often considered these poor souls 
with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard 
them asking the first man they have met with whether 

30 there was any news stirring; and by that means 



54 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

gathering together materials for thinking. These 
needy persons do not know what to talk of till about 
twelve o'clock in the morning; for by that tim.e they 
are pretty good judges of the weather, know which 
way the wind sits, and whether the Diitch mail be 5 
come in. As they lie at the n:iercy of the first man 
they meet, and are grave or impertinent all the day 
long, according to the notions which they have imbibed 
in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them not 
to stir out of their chambers till they have read this lo 
paper, and do promise them that I will daily instill 
into them such sound and wholesome sentiments as 
shall have a good effect on their conversation for the 
ensuing twelve hours. 

But there are none to w^iom this paper will be more is 
useful than to the female world. I have often thought 
there has not been sufficient pains taken in finding out 
proper employments and diversions for the fair ones. 
Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as 
they are women than as they are reasonable creatures ; 20 
and are more adapted to the sex than to the species. 
The toilet is their great scene of business, and the right 
adjusting of their hair the principal employment of 
their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribbons is reck- 
oned a very good morning's work; and if they make 25 
an excursion to a mercer's or a toy shop, so great a 
fatigue makes them unfit for anything else all the day 
after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and 
embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the prepara- 
tion of jellies and sweetmeats. This, I say, is the 30 



THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOK 55 

state of ordinary women; though I know there are 
multitudes of those of a more elevated life and con- 
versation that move in an exalted sphere of knowl- 
edge and virtue, that join all the beauties of the mind 
5 to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind of awe 
and respect, as well as love, into their male beholders. 
I hope to increase the number of these by publishing 
this daily paper, which I shall always endeavor to 
make an innocent, if not an improving, entertainment, 

10 and by that means at least divert the minds of my 
female readers from greater trifles. At the same time, 
as I would fain give some finishing touches to those 
which are already the most beautiful pieces in human 
nature, I shall endeavor to point out all those imper- 

15 fections that are the blemishes, as well as those virtues 
which are the embellishments, of the sex. In the 
meanwhile I hope these my gentle readers, who have 
so much time on their hands, will not grudge throw- 
ing away a quarter of an hour in a day on this paper, 

20 since they may do it without any hindrance to busi- 
' ness. 

I know several of my friends and well wishers are 
in great pain for me, lest I should not be able to keep 
up the spirit of a paper which I oblige myself to 

25 furnish every day ; but to make them easy in this par- 
ticular, I will promise them faithfully to give it over 
as soon as I grow dull. This I know w411 be matter 
of great raillery to the small wits ; who will frequently 
put me in mind of my promise, desire me to keep my 

30 word, assure me that it is high time to give over, with 



56 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

many other little pleasantries of the like nature, which 
men of a little smart genius cannot forbear throwing 
out against their best friends, when they have such a 
handle given them of being witty. But let them 
remember that I do hereby enter my caveat against 5 
this piece of raillery. C 



Ill 

LEWIS THE EOUETEENTH 

[The Spectator, No. 180. — Steele. Wednesday, Septemoer 

S6, 1711.] 

Delirant reges, plectiintur Achivi. ^ 

— Horace. 

The following letter has so much weight and p:ood 
sense that I cannot forbear inserting it, though it 
relates to an hardened sinner, whom I have very little 
hopes of reforming, viz., Lewis XIV. of France. 

5 "Mr. Spectator: 

"Amidst the variety of subjects of which you have 
treated I could wish it had fallen in your way to 
expose the vanity of conquests. This thought would 
naturally lead one to the French king, who has been 

10 generally esteemed the greatest conqueror of our age, 
till her majesty's armies had torn from him so many 
of his countries, and deprived him of the fruit of all 
his former victories. For my own part, if I were to 
draw his picture, I should be for taking him no lower 

15 than to the Peace of Eeswick, just at the end of his 
triumphs, and before his reverse of fortune ; and even 

i^'Tlie monareli's folly makes the people rue." (Except 
when otherwise specified, translations of the mottoes are taken 
from comparatively early editions of the Tatler or Spectator.) 

57 



58 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

then I should not forbear thinking his ambition had 
been vain and unprofitable to himself and his people. 

''As for himself, it is certain he can have gained 
nothing by his conquests, if they have not rendered 
him master of more subjects, more riches, or greater 5 
power. What I shall be able to offer upon these heads, 
I resolve to submit to your consideration. 

"To begin, then, with his increase of subjects. From 
the time he came of age, and has been a manager for 
himself, all the people he had^ acquired were suchio 
only as he had reduced by his wars, and were left in 
his possession by the peace ; he had conquered not 
above one-third part of Flanders, and consequently no 
more than one-third part of the inhabitants of that 
province. is 

"About one hundred years ago, the houses in that 
country were all numbered, and by a just computation 
the inhabitants of all sorts could not then exceed 750,- 
000 souls. And if any man will consider the desola- 
tion by almost perpetual wars, the numerous armies 20 
that have lived almost ever since at discretion upon 
the people, and how much of their commerce has 
removed for more security to other places, he will have 
little reason to imagine that their numbers have since 
increased ; and therefore with one-third part of that 25 
province that prince can have gained no more than 
one-third part of the inhabitants, or 250,000 new sub- 
jects, even though it should be supposed they were all 

^ Bad acquired; each liad in this paragraph should be lias 
and each were, are. 



LEWIS THE FOURTEENTH 59 

contented to live still in their native country, and 
transfer their allegiance to a new master. 

' ' The fertility of this province, its convenient situa- 
tion for trade and commerce, its capacity for furnish- 

5 ing employment and subsistence to great numbers, and 
the vast armies that have been maintained here, make 
it credible that the remaining two-thirds of Flanders 
are equal to all his other conquests ; and consequently 
by all he cannot have gained more than 750,000 new 

10 subjects, men, women, and children, especially if a 
deduction shall be made of such as have retired from 
the conqueror to live under their old masters. 

" It is time now to set his loss against his profit, and 
to show for the new subjects he had acquired how 

15 many old ones he had lost in the acquisition. I think 
that in his wars he has seldom brought less into the 
field in all places than 200,000 fighting men, besides 
what have been left in garrisons ; and I think the com- 
mon computation is that of an army, at the latter end 

20 of a campaign, without sieges or battle, scarce four- 
fifths can be mustered of those that came into the field 
at the beginning of the year. His wars at several 
times till the last peace have held about twenty years ; 
and if 40,000 yearly lost, or a fifth part of his armies, 

25 are to be multiplied by twenty, he cannot have lost 
less th1an 800,000 of his old subjects, all able-bodied 
men, a greater number than the new subjects he had 
acquired. 

' ' But this loss is not all. Providence seems to have 

30 equally divided the whole mass of mankind into dif- 



60 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

ferent sexes that every woman may have her husband, 
and that both may equally contribute to the continu- 
ance of the species. It follows, then, that for all the 
men that have been lost as many women must have 
lived single. In so long a course of years great parts 
of them must have died, and all the rest must go off 
at last without leaving any representatives behind. 
By this account he must have lost not only 800,000 
subjects, but double that number, and all the increase 
that was reasonably to be expected from it. lo 

"It is said in the last war there was a famine in 
his kingdom which swept away two millions of his 
people. This is hardly credible; if the loss was only 
of one-fifth part of that sum it was very great. But 
'tis no wonder there should be famine where so much is 
of the people's substance is taken away for the king's 
use that they have not sufficient left to provide against 
accidents, where so many of the men are taken from 
the plough to serve the king in his wars, and a great 
part of the tillage is left to the weaker hands of so 20 
many women and children. Whatever was the loss, 
it must undoubtedly be placed to the account of his 
ambition. 

"And so must also the destruction or banishment 
of three or four hundred thousand of his reformed 25 
subjects; he could have no other reasons for valuing 
those lives so very cheap but only to recommend him- 
self to the bigotry of the Spanish nation. 

"How should there be industry in a country w^here 
all property is precarious? What subject will sow so 



LEWIS THE FOUETEENTH 61 

his land that his prince may reap the whole harvest? 
Parsimony and frugality must be strangers to such 
a people; for will any man save today what he has 
reason to fear will be taken from him tomorrow ? And 
5 where is the encouragement for marrying? "Will any 
man think of raising children without any assurance 
of clothing for their backs, or so much as food for 
their bellies ? And thus by his fatal ambition he must 
have lessened the number of his subjects, not only by 

10 slaughter and destruction, but by preventing their 
very births, he has done as much as was possible 
toward destroying posterity itself. 

• ' Is this then the great, the invincible Lewis ? This 
the immortal man, the tout puissant, or the almighty, 

15 as his flatterers have called him ? Is this the man that 
is so celebrated for his conquests? For every subject 
he has acquired, has he not lost three that were his 
inheritance? Are not his troops fewer, and those 
neither so well fed, or clothed, or paid, as they were 

20 formerly, though he has now so much greater cause 
to exert himself? And what can be the reason of 
all this but that his revenue is a great deal less, his 
subjects are either poorer, or not so many to be plun- 
dered by constant taxes for his use ? 

25 "It is well for him he had found out a way to steal 
a kingdom; if he had gone on conquering as he did 
before, his ruin had been long since finished. This 
brings to my mind a saying of King Pyrrhus, after he 
had a second time beat the Romans in a pitched battle, 

30 and was complimented by his generals, 'Yes,' says he, 



62 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

'such another victory and I am quite undone.' And 
since I have mentioned Pyrrhus, I will end with a 
very good, though known, story of this ambitious mad- 
man. AVhen he had shewn the utmost fondness for 
his expedition against the Romans, Cyneas, his chiefs 
minister, asked him what he proposed to himself by 
this war. 

'Why,' says Pyrrhus, 'to conquer the Romans, and 
reduce all Italy to my obedience.' 

'What then?' says Cyneas. lo 

'To pass over into Sicily,' says Pyrrhus, 'and then 
all the Sicilians must be our subjects.' 

'And what does your majesty intend next?' 

'Why, truly,' says the king, 'to conquer Carthage, 
and make myself master of all Africa.' 15 

'And what, sir,' says the minister, 'is to be the end 
of all your expeditions ? ' 

'Why, then,' says the king, 'for the rest of our lives 
we'll sit down to good wine.' 

'How sir,' replied Cyneas, 'to better than we have 20 
now before us? Have we not already as much as we 
can drink?' 

^'Riot and excess are not the becoming characters 
of princes; but if Pyrrhus and Lewis had debauched 
like Vitellius they had been less hurtful to their 25 
people. 

"Your humble servant, 

' ' Philarithm us. ' ' 



IV 

THE UPHOLSTEEER 

[The Tatler, No. 155.— Addison. Thursday, April 6, 1710.] 

Aliena negotia curat, 
Excussus propriis.i 

— Horace. 

From my oivn Apartment, April 5. 

There lived some years since, within my neighbor- 
hood, a very grave person, an npholsterer, who seemed 
a man of more than ordinary application to business. 
He was a very early riser and was often abroad two 

5 or three hours before any of his neighbors. He had a 
particular carefulness in the knitting of his brows and 
a kind of impatience in all his motions that plainly 
discovered he was always intent on matters of impor- 
tance. Upon my inquiry into his life and conversa- 

lotion, I found him to be the greatest newsmonger in 
our quarter : that he rose before day to read the Post- 
man; and that he would take two or three turns to the 
other end of the town before his neighbors were up, 
to see if there were any Dutch mails come in. He 

15 had a wife and several children ; but was much more 

I'^When he had lost all business of his own, 

He ran in quest of news through all the town.'' 

63 



64 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

inquisitive to know what passed in Poland than in his 
own family and was in greater pain and anxiety of 
mind for King Augustus's welfare than^ that of his 
nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a 
dearth of news and never enjoyed himself in a west- 5 
erly Vvdnd. This indefatigable kind of life was the 
ruin of his shop ; for about the time that his favorite 
prince left the crown of Poland, he broke and disap- 
peared. 

This man and his affairs had been long out of myic 
mind, until about three days ago, as I was walking in 
St. James's park, I heard somebody at a distance hem- 
ming after me ; and who should it be but my old neigh- 
bor, the upholsterer ? I saw he was reduced to extreme 
poverty, by certain shabby superfluities in his dress : i£ 
for, notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for 
the time of the year, he wore a loose greatcoat and a 
muff, with a long campaign wig out of curl, to which 
he had added the ornament of a pair of black garters 
buckled under the knee. 2C 

ITpon his coming up to me, I was going to inquire 
into his present circumstances ; but was prevented by 
his asking me, with a whisper, 'whether the last let-** 
ters brought any accounts that one might rely upon 
from Bender?' 25 

T told him, ' ' None that I heard of, ' ' and asked him, 
'whether he had yet married his eldest daughter.' 

He told me, "No. But pray," says he, "tell me 
sincerely what are your thoughts of the King of 

^ A more careful writer would have put a for after this word. 



THE UPHOLSTEEEE 65 

Sweden?" For though his wife and children were 
starving, I found his chief concern at present was for 
this great monarch. I told him, that I looked upon 
him as one of the first heroes of the age. 

5 "But pray," says he, "do you think there is any- 
thing in the story of his wound?" And finding me 
surprised at the question, "Nay," says he, "I only 
propose it to you." 

I answered that I thought there was no reason to 

10 doubt of it. 

"But why in the heel," says he, "more than any 
other part of the body ? " 

"Because," said I, "the bullet chanced to light 
there. ' ' 

15 This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner ended 
but he began to launch out into a long dissertation 
upon the affairs of the North ; and after having spent 
some time on them, he told me he was in a great 
perplexity how to reconcile the Supplement with the 

20 English Post and had been just now examining what 
the other papers say upon the same subject. "The 
Daily Courant,^^ says he, "has these words. 'We have 
advices from very good hands that a certain prince 
has some matters of great importance under consider- 

25ation.' This is very mysterious but the Post-hoy 
leaves us more in the dark ; for he tells us ' That there 
are private intimations of measures taken by a certain 
prince which time will bring to light. ' Now the Post- 
man/' says he, "who uses to be very clear, refers to 

30 the same news in these words: 'The late conduct of 



66 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

a certain prince affords great matter of speculation.' 
"This certain prince/' says the upholsterer, "whom 

they are all so cautious of naming, I take to be . ' ' 

Upon which, though there was nobody near us, he 
whispered something in my ear, which I did not hear, 5 
or think worth my while to make him repeat. 

We were now got to the upper end of the Mall, 
where were three or four very odd fellows sitting 
together upon the bench. These I found were all of 
them politicians who used to sun themselves in that 10 
place every day about dinner time. Observing them 
to be curiosities in their kind and my friend's ac- 
quaintance, I sat down among them. 

The chief politician of the bench was a great as- 
serter of paradoxes. He told us, with a seeming con- 15 
cern, that by some news he had lately read from 
Muscovy it appeared to him that there was a storm 
gathering in the Black Sea which might in time do 
hurt to the naval forces of this nation. To this he 
added that, for his part, he could not wish to see the 20 
Turk driven out of Europe, which he believed could 
not but be prejudicial to our woolen manufacture. 
He then told us that he looked upon those extraor- 
dinary revolutions which had lately happened in those 
parts of the world to have risen chiefly from two per- 25 
sons who were not much talked of; "and those," says 
he "are Prince Menzikoff and the Duchess of Miran- 
dola." He backed his assertions with so many broken 
hints and such a show of depth and wisdom that we 
gave ourselves up to his opinions. 3G 



THE UPHOLSTEEEE 67 

The discourse at length fell upon a point which 
seldom escapes a knot of true-born Englishmen, 
whether, in case of a religious war, the Protestants 
would not be too strong for the Papists? This we 

5 unanimously determined on the Protestant side. One 
who sat on my right hand, and, as I found by his 
discourse, had been in the West Indies, assured us, 
that it v/ould be a Yery easy matter for the Protes- 
tants to beat the Pope at sea; and added that when- 

ever such a war does break out, it must turn to the 
good of the Leeward Islands. Upon this, one who 
sat at the end of the bench and, as I afterwards found, 
was the geographer of the company, said that in 
case the Papists should drive the Protestants from 

.5 these parts of Europe, when the worst came to the 
worst, it would be impossible to beat them out of Nor- 
way and Greenland, provided the northern crowns 
hold together and the czar of Muscovy stand neuter. 
He further told us, for our comfort, that there were 

20 vast tracts of lands about the pole, inhabited neither 
by Protestants nor Papists and of greater extent than 
all the Roman Catholic dominions in Europe. 

When we had fully discussed this point my friend, 
the upholsterer, began to exert himself upon the pres- 

25 ent negotiations of peace ; in which he deposed princes, 
settled the bounds of kingdoms, and balanced the 
power of Europe, with great justice and impartiality. 
I at length took my leave of the company, and was 
going away, but had not gone thirty yards before the 

30 upholsterer hemmed again after me. Upon his ad- 



(68 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

vancing toward me with a whisper, I expected to 
hear some secret piece of news, which he had not 
thought fit to communicate to the bench; but instead 
of that, he desired me in my ear to lend him half-a- 
crown. In compassion to so needy a statesman, and 5 
to dissipate the confusion I found he was in, I told 
him, if he pleased, I would give him five shillings, to 
receive five pounds of him when the Great Turk was 
driven out of Constantinople; which he very readily 
accepted, but not before he had laid down to me theic 
impossibility of such an event as the affairs of Europe 
now stand. 

This paper I design for the particular benefit of 
those worthy citizens who live more in a coffee house 
than in their shops, and whose thoughts are so taken i£ 
up with the affairs of the allies that they forget their 
customers. 



V 

COFFEE HOUSE NEWS 
[The Spectator, No. 403. — Addison. Thursday, June 12, 1112.'\ 

Qui mores hominum multorum vidit.i 

— Horace. 

"When I consider this great city in its several quar- 
ters and divisions, I look upon it as an aggregate of 
various nations distinguished from each other by their 
respective customs, manners, and interests. The courts 

5 of two countries do not so much differ from one an- 
other as the court and city in their peculiar ways of 
life and conversation. In short, the inhabitants of 
St. James's, notwithstanding they live under the same 
laws, and speak the same language, are a distinct 

10 people from those of Cheapside, who are likewise 
removed from those of the Temple on the one side, 
and those of Smithfield on the other, by several cli- 
mates and degrees in their way of thinking and con- 
versing together. 

15 For this reason, when any public affair is upon the 
anvil, I love to hear the reflections that arise upon it 
in the several districts and parishes of London and 
"Westminster, and to ramble up and down a whole 
day together, in order to make myself acquainted with 

1 ' ' Who sees the manners of many men. ' ' 

69 



70 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

the opinions of my ingenious countrymen. By this 
means I know the faces of all the principal politicians 
within the bills of mortality ; and as every coffee house 
has some particular statesman belonging to it, who is 
the mouth of the street where he lives, I always take 5 
care to place myself near him, in order to know his 
judgment on the present posture of affairs. The last 
progress that I made with this intention was about 
three months ago, when we had a current report of 
the king of France's death. As I foresaw this would lo 
produce a new face of things in Europe, and many 
curious speculations in our British coffee houses, I 
was very desirous to learn the thoughts of our most 
eminent politicians on that occasion. 

That I might begin as near the fountain head as is 
possible, I first of all called in at St. James's, where I 
found the whole outward room in a buzz of politics. 
The speculations were but very indifferent toward 
the door, but grew finer as you advanced to the upper 
end of the room, and were so verj^ much improved by 20 
a knot of theorists who sat in the inner room, within 
the steams of the coffee pot, that I there heard the 
whole Spanish monarchy disposed of and all the line 
of Bourbon provided for in less than a quarter of an 
hour. 25 

I afterwards called in at Giles's, where I saw a 
board of French gentlemen sitting upon the life and 
death of their grand monarque. Those among them 
who had espoused the Whig interest very positively 
affirmed that he departed this life about a week since, 30 



COFFEE HOUSE NEWS 71 

and therefore proceeded without any further delay to 
the release of their friends on the galleys, and to their 
own re-establishment ; but finding they could not agree 
among themselves, I proceeded on my intended prog- 
5 ress. 

Upon my arrival at Jenny Man's, I saw an alert 
young fellow that cocked his hat upon a friend of 
his who entered just at the same time with myself, and 
accosted him after the following manner. "Well, 

10 Jack, the old prig is dead at last. Sharp 's the w^ord. 
Now or never boy. Up to the walls of Paris directly. ' ' 
With several other deep reflections of the same nature. 
I met with very little variation in the politics be- 
tween Charing Cross and Covent Garden. And upon 

15 my going into Will 's, I found their discourse was gone 
off from the death of the French king to that of 
Monsieur Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several other 
poets, whom they regretted on this occasion, as per- 
sons who would have obliged the world with very 

20 noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, and so 
eminent a patron of learning. 

At a coffee house near the Temple, I found a couple 
of young gentlemen engaged very smartly in a dis- 
pute on the succession to the Spanish monarchy. One 

25 of them seemed to have been retained as advocate for 
the Duke of Anjou, the other for his Imperial Majes- 
ty. They were both for regulating the title to that 
kingdom by the statute laws of England ; but finding 
them going out of my depth I passed forward to 

30 Paul 's churchyard, where I listened with great atten- 



72 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

tion to a learned man, who gave the company an 
account of the deplorable state of France during the 
minority of the deceased king. 

j I then turned on my right hand into Fish Street, 
where the chief politician of that quarter, upon hear- 5 
ing the news, (after having taken a pipe of tobacco, 
and ruminated for some time) "If," says he, ''the 
Mng of France is certainly dead, we shall have plenty 
of mackerel this season; our fishery will not be dis- 
turbed by privateers, as it has been for these ten 10 
years past. ' ' He afterwards considered how the death 
of this great man would affect our pilchards, and by 
several other remarks infused a general joy into his 
whole audience. 

I afterwards entered a by coffee house that stood 15 
at the upper end of a narrow lane, where I met with 
a nonjuror, engaged very warmly with a laceman 
who was the great support of a neighboring conven- 
ticle. The matter in debate was whether the late 
French king was most like Augustus Caesar or Nero. 20 
The controversy was carried on with great heat on 
both sides, and as each of them looked upon me very 
frequently during the course of their debate, I was 
under some apprehension that they would appeal to 
me, and therefore laid down my penny at the bar, 25 
and made the best of my way to Cheapside. 

I here gazed upon the signs for some time before I 
found one to my purpose. The first object I met in 
the coffee room was a person who expressed a great 
grief for the death of the French king ; but upon his 30 



COFFEE HOUSE NEWS 73 

explaining himself, I found his sorrow did not arise 
from the loss of the monarch, but for his having sold 
out of the bank about three days before he heard the 
news of it: upon which a haberdasher, who was the 
5 oracle of the coffee house, and had his circle of ad- 
mirers about him, called several to witness that he 
had declared his opinion above a week before that 
the French king was certainly dead; to which he 
added, that considering the late advices we had re- 

10 ceived from France, it was impossible that it could 
be otherwise. As he was laying these together and 
dictating to his hearers with great authority, there 
came in a gentleman from Garraway's, who told us 
that there were several letters from France just come 

15 in, with advice that the king was in good health, and 
was gone out a-hunting the very morning the post 
came away: upon which the haberdasher stole off his 
hat that hung upon a wooden peg by him, and re- 
tired to his shop with great confusion. This intelli- 

20 gence put a stop to my travels, which I had prosecuted 
with much satisfaction; not being a little pleased to 
hear so many different opinions upon so great an 
event, and to observe how naturally upon such a piece 
of news everyone is apt to consider it with a regard to 

25 his particular interest and advantage. L 



VI 

PRINTING AND PAPER 

[The Spectator, No. 367. — Addison. Thursday, May 1, 1712.1 

Periturae parcere chartae.i 

— Juvenal. 

I have often pleased myself with considering the 
two kinds of benefits which accrue to the public from 
these my speculations, and which, were I to speak 
after the manner of logicians, I would distinguish 
into the material and the formal. By the latter 1 5 
understand those advantages which my readers re- 
ceive, as their minds are either improved or delighted 
by these my daily labors; but having already several 
times descanted on my endeavors in this light, I shall 
at present wholly confine myself to the consideration lo 
of the former. By the word material I mean those 
benefits which arise to the public from these my 
speculations, as they consume a considerable quantity 
of our paper manufacture, employ our artisans in 
printing, and find business for great numbers ofi5 
indigent persons. 

Our paper manufacture takes into it several mean 
materials which could be put to no other use, and 
affords work for several hands in the collecting of 

1 ' ' To spare paper that is sure to be wasted. ' ' — Lewis Tlvans. 

74 



FEINTING AND PAPEK 75 

them which are incapable of *any other employment. 
Those poor retailers whom we see so busy in every 
street deliver in their respective gleanings to the 
merchant. The merchant carries them in loads to 

5 the paper mill, where they pass through a fresh set 
of hands, and give life to another trade. Those who 
have mills on their estates by this means considerably 
raise their rents, and the whole nation is in a great 
measure supplied with a manufacture for which 

10 formerly she was obliged to her neighbors. 

The materials are no sooner wrought into paper 
but they are distributed among the presses, where 
they again set innumerable artists at work, and fur- 
nish business to another mystery. From hence, 

15 accordingly as they are stained with news or politics, 
they fly through the town in Postmen, Post-hoys, 
Daily Courants, Reviews, Medleys, and Examiners. 
Men, women, and children contend who shall be the 
first bearers of them, and get their daily sustenance 

20 by spreading them. In short, when I trace in my 
mind a bundle of rags to a quire of Spectators, I find 
so many hands employed in every step they take 
through their whole progress that while I am writing 
a Spectator I fancy myself providing bread for a 

25 multitude. 

If I do not take care to obviate some of my witty 
readers, they will be apt to tell me that my paper, 
after it is thus printed and published, is still bene- 
ficial to the public on several occasions. I must confess 

30 1 have lighted my pipe with my own works for this 



76 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

twelve-month past: my landlady often sends up her 
little daughter to desire some of my old Spectators, 
and has frequently told me that the paper they are 
printed on is the best in the world to wrap spice in. 
They likewise make a good foundation for a muttons 
pie, as I have more than once experienced, and were 
very much sought for last Christmas by the whole 
neighborhood. 

It is pleasant enough to consider the changes that 
a linen fragment undergoes by passing through theio 
several hands above mentioned. The finest pieces of 
holland, when worn to tatters, assume a new white- 
ness more beautiful than their first, and often return 
in the shape of letters to their native country. A 
lady 's shift may be metamorphosed into billets-doux, 15 
and come into her possession a second time. A beau 
may peruse his cravat after it is worn out, with 
greater pleasure and advantage than ever he did in a 
glass. In a word, a piece of cloth, after having offi- 
ciated for some years as a towel or a napkin, may by 20 
this means be raised from a dunghill, and become the 
most valuable piece of furniture in a prince 's cabinet^ 

The politest nations of Europe have endeavored to 
vie with one another for the reputation of the finest 
printing. Absolute governments, as well as republics, 25 
have encouraged an art Y\'hich seems to be the noblest 
and most beneficial that was ever invented among the 
sons of men. The present King of France, in his 
pursuits after glory, has particularly distinguished 
himself by the promoting of this useful art, insomuch so 



FEINTING AND PAPEE 77 

that several books have been printed in the Louvre 
at his own expense, upon which he sets so great a 
value that he considers them as the noblest presents 
he can make to foreign princes and ambassadors. If 

5 we look into the commonwealths of Holland and 
Venice, we shall find that in this particular they have 
made themselves the envy of the greatest monarchies. 
Elzever and Aldus are more frequently mentioned 
than any pensioner of the one or doge of the other. 

10 The several presses which are now in England, and 
the great encouragement which has been given to 
learning for some years last past, has made our own 
nation as glorious upon this account as for its late 
triumphs and conquests. The new edition which is 

15 given us of Caesar's Commentaries has already been- 
taken notice of in foreign Gazettes, and is a work that 
does honor to the English press. It is no wonder that 
an edition should be very correct which has passed 
through the hands of one of the most accurate, 

20 learned, and judicious writers this age has produced. 
The beauty of the paper, of the character, and of the 
several cuts with which this noble work is illustrated, 
makes it the finest book that I have ever seen; and 
is a true instance of the English genius, which, 

25 though it does not come the first into any art, generally 
carries it to greater heights than any other country 
in the world. I am particularly glad that this author 
comes from a British printing house in so great a 
magnificence, as he is the first who has given us any 

30 tolerable account of our countrv. 



78 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

My illiterate readers, if any such there are, will be 
surprised to hear me talk of learning as the glory of a 
nation, and of printing as an art that gains a reputa- 
tion to a people among whom it flourishes. When 
men's thoughts are taken up with avarice and ambi-5 
tion, they cannot look upon any thing as great or 
valuable which does not bring with it an extraordinary 
power or interest to the person who is concerned in it. 
But as I shall never sink this paper so far as to 
engage with Goths and Yandals, I shall only regard lo 
such kind of reasoners with that pity which is due to 
so deplorable a degree of stupidity and ignorance. 

L 



VII 

THE ADVENTUEES OF A SHILLING 

[The Tatler, No. S49. — Addison. Saturday, Nov. 11, 1710.] 

Per varies casus, per tot discrimina rernm, 
Tendimus.i —Virgil. 

From my oivn Apartment, Novemher 10.- 

I was last night visited by a friend of mine who 
has an inexhaustible fund of discourse and never" 
fails to entertain his company with a variety of 
thoughts and hints that are altogether new and un- 

5 common. Whether it were in complaisance to my 
way of living, or his real opinion, he advanced the 
following paradox: That it required much greater 
talents to fill up and become a retired life than a life 
of business. Upon this occasion he rallied, very 

10 agreeably, the busy men of the age who only valued 
themselves for being in motion and passing through 
a series of trifling and insignificant actions. In the 
heat of his discourse, seeing a piece of money lying 
on my table, "I defy," says he, ''any of these active 

15 persons to produce half the adventures that this 
twelve-penny piece has been engaged in, were it pos- 
sible for him to give us an account of his life." 

1 ' ' Through various hazards and events we move. ' ' — John 
Dryden. 

79 



80 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

My friend's talk made so odd an impression upon 
my mind that soon after I was a-bed I fell insensibly 
into a most unaccountable reverie, that had neither 
moral nor design in it and cannot be so properly 
called a dream as a delirium. 5 

]\lethought the shilling that lay upon the table 
reared itself upon its edge and, turning the face to- 
ward me, opened its mouth and, in a soft silver 
sound, gave me the following account of his life and 
adventures : _ ic 

^'I was born," says he, ''on the side of a mountain, 
■near a little village of Peru, and made a voyage to 
England in an ingot, under the convoy of Sir Francis 
Drake. I was, soon after my arrival, taken out of 
my Indian habit, refined, naturalized and put into is 
the British mode, with the face of Queen Elizabeth on 
one side and the arms of the country on the other. 
Being thus equipped, I found in me a wonderful in- 
clination to ramble and visit all parts of the new 
world into which I was brought. The people very 20 
much favored my natural disposition and shifted me 
so fast from hand to hand that, before I was five 
years old, I had traveled into almost every corner of 
the nation. But in the beginning of my sixth year, 
to my unspeakable grief, I fell into the hands of a 25 
miserable old fellow, who clapped me into an iron 
chest, where I found five hundred more of my own 
quality who lay under the same confinement. The 
only relief we had was to be taken out and counted 
over in the fresh air every morning and evening, sc 



THE ADVENTUEES OF A SHILLING 81 

After an imprisonment of several years, we heard 
somebody knocking at our chest and breaking it open 
with a hammer. This we found was the old man's 
heir, who, as his father lay a-dying, was so good as to 

5 come to our release. He separated us that very day. 
What was the fate of my companions I know not ; as 
for myself, I was sent to the apothecary's shop for 
a pint of sack. The apothecary gave me to an herb- 
woman, the herb-woman to a butcher, the butcher to 

oa brewer, and the brewer to his wife, who made a 
present of me to a nonconformist preacher. After 
this manner I made my way merrily through the 
world, for, as I told you before, we shillings love 
nothing so much as traveling. I sometimes fetched 

sin a shoulder of mutton, sometimes a play-book, and 
often had the satisfaction to treat a templar at a 
twelve-penny ordinary, or carry him with three friends 
to Westminster Hall. 

''In the midst of this pleasant progress wiiich I 

lomade from place to place, I was arrested by a super- 
stitious old woman, who shut me up in a greasy purse, 
in pursuance of a foolish saying, 'that while she 
kept a Queen Elizabeth's shilling about her, she 
should never be without money.' I continued here 

25 a close prisoner for many months, until at last I was 
exchanged for eight-and-forty farthings. 

"I thus rambled from pocket to pocket, until the 
beginning of the civil wars, when, to my shame be 
it spoken, I was employed in raising soldiers against 

JO the king: for, being of a very tempting breadth, a 



82 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

sergeant made use of me to inveigle country fellows 
and list them into the service of the parliament. 

''As soon as he had made one man sure, his way 
was to oblige him to take a shilling of a more homely 
figure and then practice the same trick upon another. 
Thus I continued doing great mischief to the crown, 
until my officer sacrificed me to his pleasures. 

"After many adventures, which it would be tedious 
to relate, I was sent to a young spendthrift, in com- 
pany with the will of his deceased father. The young 
fellow, who, I found, was very extravagant, gave great 
demonstrations of joy at the receiving the will; but 
opening it, he found himself disinherited, and cut off 
from the possession of a fair estate, by virtue of my 
being made a present to him. This put him into such 
a passion, that after having taken me into his hand 
and cursed me, he squirred me away from him as 
far as he could fling me. I chanced to light in an 
unfrequented place, under a dead wall, where I lay 
undiscovered and useless during the usurpation o'f 
Oliver Cromwell. 

''About a year after the king's return, a poor 
cavalier that was walking there about dinner-time 
fortunately cast his eye upon me and, to the great 
joy of us both, carried me to a cook's shop, where he 
dined upon me and drank the king's health. When 
I came again into the world, I found that I had been 
happier in my retirement than I thought, having 
probably by that means escaped wearing a monstrous 
pair of breeches. 



THE ADVENTUKES OF A SHILLING 83 

*' Being now of great credit and antiquity, I was 
rather looked upon as a medal than an ordinary coin ; 
for which reason a gamester laid hold of me and 
converted m.e to a counter, having got together some 

5 dozens of us for that use. We led a melancholy life 
in his possession, being busy at those hours wherein 
current coin is at rest, and partaking the fate of our 
master; being in a few moments valued at a crown, 
a pound, or a sixpence, according to the situation in 

a which the fortune of the cards placed us. I had at 
length the good luck to see my master break, by which 
means I was again sent abroad under my primitive 
denomination of a shilling. 

"I shall pass over many other accidents of less 

.5 moment and hasten to that fatal catastrophe when 
I fell into the hands of an artist who conveyed me 
under ground and, with an unmerciful pair of shears, 
cut off my titles, clipped my brims, retrenched my 
shape, rubbed me to my inm^ost ring and, in short, 

20 so spoiled and pillaged me that he did not leave me 
worth a groat. You may think 'what confusion I was 
in to see myself thus curtailed and disfigured. I 
should have been ashamed to have shown my head 
had not all of my old acquaintances been reduced 

25 to the same shameful figure, excepting some few that 
were punched through the belly. In the midst of 
this general calamity, when everybody thought our 
misfortune irretrievable and our case desperate, we 
were thrown into the furnace together and, as it often 

30 happens with cities rising out a fire, appeared with 



84 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

greater beauty and luster than we could ever boast of 
before. What has happened to me since this change 
of sex which you now see, I shall take some other 
opportunity to relate. In the meantime, I shall only 
repeat two adventures, as being very extraordinary, 5 
and neither of them having ever happened to me above 
once in my life. The first was, my being in a poet's 
pocket, who was so taken with the brightness and 
novelty of my appearance that it gave occasion to the 
finest burlesque poem in the British language, enti-10 
tuled, from me. The Splendid Shilling. The second 
adventure which I must not omit happened to me in 
the year 1703, when I was given away in charity to 
a blind man; but indeed this was by mistake, the 
person who gave me having thrown me heedlessly is 
into the hat among a penny-worth of farthings." 



VIII 

THE TRUMPET CLUB 

[The Tatler, No. 132.— Steele. Saturday, Feb. 11, 1709-10.] 

Habeo seneetuti magnam gratiam, quae mihi sermonis avidi- 
tatem auxit, potionis et cibi sustulit.i 

— Tullius, de Senectute. 

After having applied my mind with more than 
ordinary attention to my studies, it is my usual custom 
to relax and unbend it in the conversation of such 
as are rather easy than shining companions. This I 

5 find particularly necessary for me before I retire to 
rest, in order to draw my slumbers upon me by degrees 
and fall asleep insensibly. This is the particular use 
I make of a set of heavy, honest men, with whom I 
have passed many hours with much indolence, though 

10 not with great pleasure. Their conversation is a kind 
of preparative for sleep : it takes the mind down 
from its abstractions, leads it into the familiar traces 
of thought, and lulls it into that state of tranquillity 
which is the condition of a thinking man when he is 

15 but half awake. After this, my reader will not be 
surprised to hear the account which I am about to 

1 ' ' I am much beholden to old age, which has increased my 
eagerness for conversation in proportion as it has lessened my 
appetites of hunger and thirst." 

85 



gg ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

give of a club of my own contemporaries among whom 
I pass two or three hours every evening. This I look 
upon as taking my first nap before I go to bed. The 
truth of it is, I should think myself unjust to posterity, 
as well as to the society at the Trumpet, of which 5 
I am a member, did not I in some part of my Avritings 
give an account of the persons among whom I have 
passed almost a sixth part of my time for these last 
forty years. Our club consisted originally of fifteen ; 
but, partly by the severity of the law in arbitrary k 
times, and partly by the natural effects of old age, we 
are at present reduced to a third part of that number ; 
in which, however, we have this consolation, that the 
best company is said to consist of five persons. I must 
confess, besides the aforementioned benefit which In 
meet with in the conversation of this select society, 
I am not the less pleased with the company, in that I 
find myself the greatest wit among them and am heard 
as their oracle in all points of learning and difficulty^ 

Sir Jeoffery Notch, who is the oldest of the club,2( 
has been in possession of the right-hand chair time 
out of mind and is the only man among us that has 
the liberty of stirring the fire. This, our foreman, is 
a gentleman of an ancient family, that came to a 
great estate some years before he had discretion and 21 
run it out in hounds, horses, and cock-fighting; f or - 
which reason he looks upon himself as an honest, 
worthy gentleman who has had misfortunes in the 
w^orld, and calls every thriving man a pitiful upstart, 

Major Matchlock is the next senior, who served mm 



t:^e trumpet club 87 

the last civil wars and has all the battles by heart. 
He does not think any action in Europe worth talking 
of since the fight of Marston Moor ; and every night 
tells us of his having been knocked off his horse at 

5 the rising of the London apprentices ; for which he 
is in great esteem among us. 

Honest old Dick Reptile is the third of our society. 
He is a good-natured, indolent man who speaks little 
himself but laughs at our jokes; and brings his young 

nephew along with him, a youth of eighteen years 
old, to show him good company and give him a taste 
of the world. This young f ellov/ sits generally silent ; 
but whenever he opens his mouth or laughs at any 
thing that passes he is constantly told by his uncle, 

15 after a jocular manner, "Ay, ay, Jack, you young 

men think us fools; but we old men know you are." 

The greatest wit of our company, next to myself, 

is a bencher of the neighboring inn, who in his youth 

frequented the ordinaries about Charing Cross, and 

20 pretends to have been intimate with Jack Ogle. He 
has about ten distiches of Hudibras without book and 
never leaves the club till he has applied them all. 
If any modern wit be mentioned, or any town frolic 
spoken of, he shakes his head at the dullness of the 

25 present age and tells us a story of Jack Ogle. 

For my own part, I am esteemed among them 
because they see I am something respected by others ; 
though at the same time I understand by their behavior 
that I am considered by them as a man of a great deal 

30 of learning but no knowledge of the world ; insomuch, 



88 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

that the Major sometimes, in the height of his military 
pride, calls me the philosopher; and Sir Jeoffery, no 
longer ago than last night, upon a dispute what day 
of the month it was then in Holland, pulled his pipe 
out of his mouth and cried, "What does the scholars 
say to it?" 

Our club meets precisely at six o'clock in the 
evening; but I did not come last night until half 
an hour after seven, by which means I escaped the 
battle of Naseby, which the Major usually begins atio 
about three-quarters after six: I found also that my 
good friend the bencher had already spent three of 
his distiches ; and only waited an opportunity to hear 
a sermon spoken of that he might introduce the couplet 
where "a stick" rhymes to "ecclesiastic." At my 15 
entrance into the room, they were naming a red petti- 
coat and a cloak, by which I found that the bencher 
had been diverting them with a story of Jack Ogle. 

I had no sooner taken my seat but Sir Jeoffery, 
to show his good will toward me, gave me a pipe of 20 
his own tobacco and stirred up the fire. I look upon 
it as a point of morality to be obliged by those who 
endeavor to oblige me; and therefore, in requital for 
his kindness and' to set the conversation a-going, I 
took the best occasion I could to put him upon telling 25 
us the story of old Gantlett, which he always does 
with very particular concern. . He traced up his 
descent on both sides for several generations, describ- 
ing his diet and manner of life, with his several 
battles, and particularly that in which he fell. This so 



THE TRUMPET CLUB 89 

Gantlett was a game cock upon whose head the knight, 
in his youth, had won five hundred pounds and lost 
two thousand. This naturally set the Major upon 
the account of Edgehill fight, and ended in a duel 
5 of Jack Ogle 's. 

Old Reptile was extremely attentive to all that was 
said, though it was the same he had heard every night 
for these twenty years, and, upon all occasions, winked 
upon his nephew to mind what passed. 

10 This may suffice to give the world a taste of our 
innocent conversation, which we spun out until about 
ten of the clock, when my maid came with a lantern 
to light me home. I could not but reflect with myself, 
as I was going out, upon the talkative humor of old 

15 men and the little figure which that part of life makes 
in one who cannot employ his natural propensity in 
discourses which would make him venerable. I must 
own, it makes me very melancholy in company, when 
I hear a young man begin a story; and have often 

20 observed that one of a quarter of an hour long in a 

man of five-and-twenty gathers circumstances every 

time he tells it, until it grows into a long Canterbury 

tale of two hours by that time he is threescore. 

The only way of avoiding such a trifling and 

25 frivolous old age is to lay up in our way to it such 
stores of knowledge and observation as may make us 
useful and agreeable in our declining years. The mind 
of man in a long life will become a magazine of 
wisdom or folly, and will consequently discharge itself 

30 in something impertinent or improving. For which 



90 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

reason, as there is nothing more ridiculous than an 
old trifling story-teller, so there is nothing more ven- 
erable than one who has turned his experience to the 
entertainment and advantage of mankind. 

In short, we who are in the last stage of life and 5 
are apt to indulge ourselves in talk ought to consider 
if what we speak be worth being heard and endeavor 
to make our discourse like that of Nestor, which Homer 
compares to the flowing of honey for its sweetness. 

I am afraid I shall be thought guilty of this excess lo 
I am speaking of, when I cannot conclude without 
observing that Milton certainly thought of this passage 
in Homer when, in his description of an eloquent 
spirit, he says, 

*'His tongue dropped manna.'' 



IX 

MEMOIES OF A PEESTON EEBEL 

[The Freeholder, No. 3. — Addison. Friday, Bee. 30, 1715.] 

Qoibiis otio vel magnifice, vel molliter vivere copia erat, ineerta 
Pro certis, bellum quam pacem, malebant.i 

— Sallust. 

Every one knows that it is usual for a French officer 
who can write and read to set down all the occur- 
rences of a campaign in which he pretends to have been 
personally concerned; and to publish them under the 

5 title of his ' ' Memoirs, ' ' when most of his fellow sol- 
diers are dead that might have contradicted any of 
his matters of fact. 

Many a gallant young fellow has been killed in 
battle before he came to the third page of his secret 

10 history ; when several, who have taken more care of 
their persons, have lived to fill a whole volume with 
their military performances, and to astonish the world 
with such instances of their braverj^ as had escaped 
the notice of everybody else. One of our late Preston 

15 heroes had, it seems, resolved upon this method of 
doing himself justice; and had he not been nipped 
in the bud, might have made a very formidable 

1 ' ' Those who might have lived splendidly and at ease pre- 
ferred uncertainties to certainties, war before peace." 

91 



92 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

figure in his own works among posterity. A friend 
of mine, who had the pillage of his pockets has made 
me the present of the following memoirs, which he 
desires me to accept as a part of the spoils of the 
rebels. I have omitted the introduction, as mores 
proper for the inspection of a secretary of state, and 
shall only set down so much of the memoirs as seem 
to be a faithful narrative of that wonderful expedition 
which drew upon it the eyes of all Europe. 

''Having thus concerted measures for a rising, weio 
had a general meeting over a bowl of punch. It w^as 
here proposed, by one of the wisest among us, to draw 
up a manifesto, setting forth the grounds and motives 
of our taking arms; for, as he observed, there had 
never yet been an insurrection in England where the 15 
leaders had not thought themselves obliged to give 
some reasons for it. To this end, we laid our heads 
together to consider what grievances the nation had 
suffered under the reign of King George. After hav- 
ing spent some hours upon this subject, without being 20 
able to discover any, we unanimously agreed to rebel 
first, and to find out reasons for it afterwards. It 
was, indeed, easy to guess at several grievances of a 
private nature which influenced particular persons. 
One of us had spent his fortune; another was a 25 
younger brother; a third had the incumbrance of a 
father upon his estate. But that which principally 
disposed us in favor of the Chevalier was that most 
of the company had been obliged to take the abjuration 



MEMOIKS OF A PEESTON EEBEL 93 

oath against their will. Being at length thoroughly 
inflamed with zeal and punch, we resolved to take 
horse the next morning, which we did accordingly, 
having been joined by a considerable reinforcement 
5 of Roman Catholics, whom we could rely upon, as 
knowing them to be the best Tories in the nation, and 
avow^ed enemies to Presbyterianism. We were, like- 
wise, joined by a very useful associate, who was a 
fiddler by profession, and brought in with him a 

10 body of lusty young fellows whom he had tweedled 
into the service. About the third day of our march, 
I v\^as made a colonel; though I must needs say I 
gained my commission by my horse's virtues, not my 
own ; having leaped over a six-bar gate at the head 

15 of the cavalry. My general, who is a discerning man, 
hereupon gave me a regiment; telling me, 'He did 
not question but I would do the like when I came to 
the enemy 's palisadoes. ' We pursued our march, with 
much intrepidity, through two or three open towns, 

20 to the great terror of the market people. Notwith- 
standing the magistracy was generally against us, we 
could discover many friends among our spectators; 

particularly in two or three balconies After 

these signal successes in the north of England, it was 

25 thought advisable, by our general, to proceed toward 
our Scotch confederates. During our first day's 
march, I amused myself with considering what post 
I should accept of under James the Third, when we 
had put him in possession of the British dominions. 

30 Being a great lover of country sports, I absolutely 



94 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

determined not to be a minister of state, nor to be 
fobbed off with a garter ; until, at length, passing by 
a noble country seat which belongs to a Whig, I 
resolved to beg it ; and pleased myself, the remainder 
of the day, with several alterations I intended to make 5 
in it. For, though the situation was very delightful, 
I neither liked the front of the house, nor the avenues 
that led to it. We were, indeed, so confident of success 
that I found most of my fellow -soldiers were taken 
up w^ith imaginations of the same nature. There hadio 
like to have been a duel between two of our subalterns 
upon a dispute which of them should be governor of 
Portsmouth. A Popish priest, about the same time, 
gave great offense to a Northumberland squire, whom 
he threatened to excommunicate, if he did not give 15 
up to him the church lands which his family had 
usurped ever since the Reformation. In short, every 
man had cut out a place for himself in his own 
thoughts; so that I could reckon up in our little 
army two or three lord treasurers, half a dozen secre- 20 
taries of state, and at least a score of lords justices 
in Eyre, for each side of the Trent. We pursued our 
march through several villages, which we drank dry, 
making proclamation at our entrance, in the name of 
James the Third, against all concealments of ale and 25 
brandy. Being very much fatigued with the action 
of a whole week, it was agreed to rest on Sunday, 
when we heard a most excellent sermon. Our chaplain 
insisted principally upon two heads. Under the first 
he proved to us that the breach of public oaths is no 30 



MEMOIES OF A PEESTON EEBEL 95 

perjury; and under the second, expounded to us the 
nature of non-resistance ; which might be interpreted 
from the Hebrew to signify either loyalty or rebellion, 
according as his sovereign bestowed his favors and 
5 preferments. He concluded with exhorting us, in a 
most pathetic manner, to purge the land by whole- 
some severities, and to propagate sound principles by 
fire and sword. We set forward the next day toward 
our friends at Kelso; but, by the way, had like to 

10 have lost our general and some of our most active 
officers. For a fox, unluckily crossing the road, drew 
off a considerable detachment, v/ho clapped spurs to 
their horses and pursued him with whoops and 
halloos till we had lost sight of them. A covey of 

15 partridges, springing up in our front, put our infantry 
into disorder on the same day. It was not long after 
this that we w^ere joined by our friends from the other 
side of ^he Frith. Upon the junction of the two 
corps, our spies brought us word that they discovered 

20 a great cloud of dust at some distance ; upon which 
we sent out a party to reconnoiter. They returned 
to us with intelligence that the dust was raised by a 
great drove of black cattle. The news was not a little 
welcome to us, the army of both nations being very 

25 hungry. "We quickly formed ourselves and received 
orders for the attack, with positive instructions to 
give no quarter. Everything was executed with so 
much good order that we made a very plentiful 
supper. We had, three days after, the same success 

CO against a flock of sheep, which we were forced to eat 



96 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

with great precipitation, having received advice of 
General Carpenter's march as we were at dinner. 
Upon this alarm, we made incredible stretches toward 
the south, with a design to gain the fastnesses of 
Preston. We did little remarkable in our way, except 5 
setting fire to a few houses, and frightening an old 
woman into fits. We had now got a long day's march 
of the enemy; and meeting with a considerable 
refreshment of October, all the officers assembled over 
it, among whom were several Popish lords and gen-io 
tlemen, who toasted many loyal healths and confusions, 
and wept very plentifully for the danger of the 
church. We sat till midnight and at our parting 
resolved to give the enemy battle but, the next morn- 
ing, changed our resolutions and prosecuted our march is 
with indefatigable speed. We were no sooner arrived 
upon the frontiers of Cumberland but we saw a great 
body of militia drawn up in array against u^ Orders 
were given to halt; and a council of war was imme- 
diately called, wherein we agreed, with that great 20 
unanimity which w^as so remarkable among us on 
these occasions, to make a retreat. But before we 
could give the word, the train bands, taking advantage ^ 
of our delay, fled first. We arrived at Preston without 
any memorable adventure ; where, after having 25 
formed many barricades and prepared for a vigorous 
resistance, upon the approach of the king's troops, 
under General Wills, who was used to the outlandish 
wRy of making war, we thought it high time to put 
in practice that passive obedience in which our part}' 30 



MEMOIES OF A PEESTON BEBEL 97 

SO much glories, and which I would advise them to 
stick to for the future." 

Such was the end of this rebellion; which, in all 
probability, will not only tend to the safety of our 
5 constitution, but the preservation of the game. 



V; 



X 

THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE 

[TJie FreeJiolder, No. 22. — Addison. March 5, 1715-16.] 

Studiis rudis, sermone barbarus, impetii streiiuus, manu 
promptus, cogitatioiie celer.i — Vellius Patere. 

For the honor of his IMajesty and the safety of 
his government we cannot bnt observe that those who 
have appeared the greatest enemies to both are of 
that rank of men w^ho are common^ distinguished by 
the title of fox hunters. As several of these have had 5 
no part of their education in cities, camps, or courts, 
it is doubtful whether they are of greater ornament 
or use to the nation in which they live. It would be 
an everlasting reproach to politics, should such men 
be able to overturn an establishment wiiich has been lo 
formed by the wisest laws and is supported by the 
ablest heads. The wrong notions and prejudices 
w^hich cleave to many of these country gentlemen, 
who have always lived out of the way of being better 
informed, are not easy to be conceived b}^ a person i5 
who has never conversed with them. 

That I may give my readers an image of these rural 
statesmen, I shall, wdthout further preface, set down 
an account of a discourse I chanced to have with one 

i^'Eude of education, barbarous of speech, vehement in 
opposition, quick of hand, and rash of thought." 

98 



THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE 99 

of them some time ago. I was traveling toward one 
of the remotest parts of England, when, about three 
o'clock in the afternoon, seeing a country gentleman 
trotting before me with a spaniel by his horse's side, 
5 1 made up to him. Our conversation opened, as 
usual, upon the weather, in which we were very 
unanimous; having both agreed that it was too dry 
for the season of the year. My fellow traveler, upon 
this, observed to me that there had been no good 

10 weather since the Revolution. I was a little startled 
at so extraordinary a remark, but would not interrupt 
him until he proceeded to tell me of the fine weather 
they used to have in King Charles the Second's reign. 
I only answered that I did not see how the badness 

15 of the weather could be the king 's fault ; and, without 
waiting for his reply, asked him whose house it was 
we saw upon a rising ground at a little distance from 
us. He told me it belonged to an old fanatical cur, 
Mr. Such-a-one. 

20 "You must have heard of him," says he, ''he's one 
of the Rump." 

I knew the gentleman's character upon hearing his 
name, but assured him that to my knowledge he was 
a good churchman. 

25 ''Ay," says he with a kind of surprise, "We were 
told in the country that he spoke twice in the queen's 
time against taking off the duties upon French 
claret. ' ' 

This naturally led us into the proceedings of late 

30 parliaments, upon which occasion he affirmed roundly 



100 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

that there had not been one good law passed since 
King "William's accession to the throne, except the 
act for preserving the game. I had a mind to see him 
out, and therefore did not care for contradicting him. 

''Is it not hard," says he, ''that honest gentlemen 5 
should be taken into custody of messengers to prevent 
them from acting according to their consciences? 
But," says he, "what can we expect when a parcel 
of factious sons of ." 

He was going on in great passion but chanced toio 
miss his dog, who was amusing himself about a bush 
that grew at some distance behind us. We stood still 
till he had whistled him up ; when he fell into a long 
panegyric upon his spaniel, who seemed indeed excel- 
lent in his kind; but I found the most remarkable 15 
adventure of his life was that he had once like to 
have worried^ a dissenting teacher. The master could 
hardly sit on his horse for laughing all the while he 
was giving me the particulars of this story, which I 
found had mightily endeared his dog to him and, as he 20 
himself told me, had made him a great favorite among 
all the honest gentlemen of the country. We were at 
length diverted from this piece of mirth by a post-boy, 
who, winding his horn at us, my companion gave him 
two or three curses and left the way clear for him. 25 

"I fancy," said I, "that post brings news from 
Scotland. I shall long to see the next Gazette.^' 

"Sir," says he, "I make it a rule never to believe 
any of your printed news. We never see, sir, how 

1 Once good English for ''came near worrying. '^ 



THE TOEY EOX HUNTER 101 

things go, except now and then in 'Dyer's Letter,' 
and I read that more for the style than the news. 
The man has a clever pen, it must be owned. But 
is it not strange that we should be making war upon 
5 Church of England men, with Dutch and Swiss sol- 
diers, men of anti-monarchical principles? These 
foreigners will never be loved in England, sir; they 
have not that wit and good breeding that we have." 
I must confess I did not expect to hear my new 

10 acquaintance value himself upon these qualifications; 
but finding him such a critic upon foreigners, I asked 
him if he had ever traveled. He told me he did not 
know what traveling was good for, but to teach a 
man to ride the great horse, to jabber French, and 

15 to talk against passive obedience. To which he added 
that he scarce ever knew a traveler in his life who 
had not forsook his principles and lost his hunting- 
seat. 

"For my part," says he, ''I and my father before 

20 me have always been for passive obedience, and shall 
be always for opposing a prince who makes use of min- 
isters that are of another opinion. But where do you 
intend to inn tonight (for we were now come in sight 
of the next town) ? I can help you to a very good 

25 landlord if you will go along with me. He is a lusty, 
jolly fellow, that lives well, at least three yards in the 
girth, and the best Church of England man upon the 
road. ' ' 

I had the curiosity to see this high-church inn- 

30 keeper, as well as to enjoy more of the conversation 



102 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

of my fellow-traveler, and therefore readily consented 
to set our horses together for that night. As we rode 
side by side through the town I was let into the 
characters of all the principal inhabitants whom we 
met in our way. One was a dog, another a whelp, 5 
and another a cur, under which several denomina- 
tions were comprehended all that voted on the Whig 
side in the last election of burgesses. As for those 
of his own party, he distinguished them by a nod of 
his head and asking them how they did, by their lo 
Christian names. Upon our arrival at the inn, my 
companion fetched out the jolly landlord, who knew 
him by his whistle. Many endearments and private 
whispers passed between them; though it was easy 
to see by the landlord 's scratching his head that things is 
did not go to their wishes. The landlord had swelled 
his body to a prodigious size, and worked up his com- 
plexion to a standing crimson by his zeal for the pros- 
perity of the Church, which he expressed every hour 
of the day, as his customers dropped in, by repeated 20 
bumpers. He had not time to go to church himself, 
but, as my friend told me in my ear, had headed a 
mob at the pulling down of two or three meeting- 
houses. While supper was preparing, he enlarged 
upon the happiness of the neighboring shire : ' ' For, ' ' 25 
says he, "there is scarce a Presbyterian in the whole 
county, except the bishop. ' ' In short, I found by his 
discourse that he had learned a great deal of politics, 
but not one word of religion, from the parson of his 
parish : and, indeed, that he had scarce any other 30 



THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE 103 

notion of religion but that it consisted in hating 
Presbyterians. I had a remarkable instance of his 
notions in this particular. Upon seeing a poor, 
decrepit, old woman pass under the window where he 

5 sat, he desired me to take notice of her ; and after- 
wards informed me that she was generally reputed 
a witch by the country people, but that, for his part, 
he was apt to believe she was a Presbyterian. 

Supper was no sooner served in than he took occa- 

losion, from a shoulder of mutton that lay before us, 
to cry up the plenty of England, which would be 
the happiest country in the world, provided we would 
live withiix ourselves„ Upon which, he expatiated on 
the inconveniences of trade, that carried from us the 

15 commodities of our country, and made a parcel of 
upstarts as rich as men of the most ancient families 
of England. He then declared frankly that he had 
always been against all treaties and alliances with 
foreigners: "Our wooden walls," says he, "are our 

20 security, and we may bid defiance to the whole world, 
especially if they should attack us when the militia 
is out." I ventured to reply that I had as great an 
opinion of the English fleet as he had; but I could 
not see how they could be paid, and manned, and 

25 fitted out, unless we encouraged trade and navigation. 
He replied with some vehemence that he would under- 
take to prove trade would be the ruin of the English 
nation. I would fain have put him upon it; but he 
contented himself with affirming it more eagerly, to 

30 which he added two or three curses upon the London 



104 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

merchants, not forgetting the directors of the Bank. 
After supper he asked me if I was an admirer of 
punch ; and immediately called for a sneaker. I took 
this occasion to insinuate the advantages of trade, by 
observing to him that water was the only native of 5 
England that could be made use of on this occasion ; 
but that the lemons, the brandy, the sugar, and the 
nutmeg were all foreigners. This put him into some 
confusion; but the landlord, who overheard me, 
brought him off, by affirming that for constant useio 
there was no liquor like a cup of English water, pro- 
vided it had malt enough in it. My Squire laughed 
heartily at the conceit and made the landlord sit down 
with us. We sat pretty late over our punch; and, 
amidst a great deal of improving iiscourse, drank the is 
healths of several persons in the country, whom I had 
never heard of, that, they both assured me, were the 
ablest statesmen in the nation; and of some Lon- 
doners, whom they extolled to the skies for their wit, 
and who, I knew, passed in town for silly fellows. 20 
It now being midnight, and my friend perceiving by 
his almanac that the moon was up, he called for his 
horse and took a sudden resolution to go to his house, 
which was at three miles' distance from the town, 
after having bethought himself that he never slept 25 
well out of his own bed. He shook me very heartily 
by the hand at parting, and discovered a great air 
of satisfaction in his looks that he had met with an • 
opportunity of showing his parts, and left me a much 
wiser man than he found me. so 



XI 

MEN OF riEE 

[The Tatler, No. 61:1. — Steele. Tuesday, Augut^t 30, 1709.] 

Quicquid agnnt homines 

nostri est farrago libelli.i 

— Juvenal. 

White's Chocolate House, August 29. 

Among many phrases which have crept into con- 
versation, especially of such company as frequent this 
place, there is not one which misleads men more than 
that of a ' ' Fellow of a great deal of fire. ' ' This meta- 

5phorical term, Fire, has done much good in keeping 
coxcombs in awe of one another; but, at the same 
time, it has made them troublesome to every body 
else. You see in the very air of a "Fellow of Fire," 
something so expressive of what he would be at that 

10 if it were not for self-preservation a man would 
laugh out. 

I had last night the fate to drink a bottle with two 
of these Firemen, who are indeed dispersed like the 
myrmidons in all quarters and to be met with among 

15 those of the most different education. One of my 
companions was a scholar with Fire ; and the other 

1 ' ' Whate 'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, 
Our motley paper seizes for its theme,'* 
105 



106 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

a soldier of the same complexion. ^ly learned man 
would fall into disputes and argue without any manner 
of provocation or contradiction : the other was decisive 
without words and would give a shrug or an oath to 
express his opinion. My learned man was a mere 5 
scholar and my man 'of war as mere a soldier. The 
particularity of the first was ridiculous, that of the 
second, terrible. They were relations by blood, which 
in some measure moderated their extravagances 
toward each other : I gave myself up merely as a lo 
person of no note in the company; but as if brought 
to be convinced that I was an inconsiderable thing, 
any otherwise than that they would show each other 
to me and make me spectator of the triumph they 
alternately enjoyed. The scholar has been very con- 15 
versant with books and the other with men only; 
which makes them both superficial: for the taste of 
books is necessary to our behavior in the best company 
and the knowledge of men is required for a true relish 
of books : but they have both Fire, which makes one 20 
pass for a man of sense, the other for a fine gentleman 
I found I could easily enough pass my time with the 
scholar: for, if I seemed not to do justice to his 
parts and sentiments, he pitied me, and let me alone. 
But the warrior could not let it rest there; I must 25 
know all that happened within his shallow observa- 
tions of the nature of the war : to all which he added 
an air of laziness, and contempt of those of his 
companions who were eminent for delighting in the 
exercise and knowledge of their duty. Thus it is that so 



. MEX OF FIKE 107 

all the young fellows of much animal life and little 
understanding who repair to our armies usurp upon 
the conversation of reasonable men, under the notion 
of having Fire. 

5 The word has not been of greater use to shallow 
lovers to supply them with chat to their mistresses 
than it has been to pretended men of pleasure to 
support them in being pert and dull and saying of 
every fool of their order, "Such a one has Fire." 

LO There is Colonel Truncheon, who marches with 
divisions ready on all occasions; a hero who never 
doubted in his life but is ever positively fixed in the 
wrong, not out of obstinate opinion, but invincible 
stupidity. 

15 It is very unhappy for this latitude of London 
that it is possible for such as can learn only fashion, 
habit, and a set of common phrases of salutation, to 
pass with no other accomplishments, in this nation 
of freedom, for men of conversation and sense. All 

20 these ought to pretend to is not to offend; but they 
carry it so far as to be negligent whether they offend 
or not ; ''for they have Fire." But their force dift'ers 
from true spirit as much as a vicious from a mettle- 
some horse. A man of Fire is a general enemy to 

25 all the waiters where you drink; is the only man 
affronted at the company's being neglected; and 
makes the drawers abroad, his valet de cliamhre and 
footman at home, know he is not to be provoked 
without danger. 

so This is not the Fire that animates the noble 



108 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Marinus, a youth of good nature, affability, and mod- 
eration. He commands his ship as an intelligence 
moves its orb : he is the vital life and his officers the 
limbs of the machine. His vivacity is seen in doing 
all the offices of life with readiness of spirit and 5 
propriety in the manner of doing them. To be ever 
active in laudable pursuits is the distinguishing char- 
acter of a man of merit; while the common behavior 
of every gay coxcomb of Fire is to be confidently in 
the Avrong and dare to persist in it. lo 



XII 

MAGNANIMITY OF MIND 

[The Spectator, No. 350.— Steele. Friday, April 11, 1712.'\ 

Ea animi elatio, quae cernitur in periculis ... si 
justitia vacat pugnatque . . . pro suis eommodis, 
in vitio est.i 

■ — Cicero. 

Captain Sentry was last night at the Club, and 
produced a letter from Ipswich, which his corre- 
spondent desired him to communicate to his friend, the 
Bpectator. It contained an account of an engagement 

5 between a French privateer, commanded by one 
Dominick Pottiere, and a little vessel of that place 
laden with corn, the master whereof, as I remember, 
was one Goodwin. The Englishman defended himself 
with incredible bravery, and beat off the French, after 

10 having been boarded three or four times. The enemy 
still came on with greater fury, and hoped by his 
number of men to carry the prize; till at last the 
Englishman, finding himself sink apace, and ready to 
perish, struck: But the effect which this singular 

15 gallantry had upon the captain of the privateer was 
no other than an unmanly desire of vengeance for 
the loss he had sustained in his several attacks. He 
told the Ipswich man in a speaking trumpet that he 

I'^That elation of mind wMeli is perceived in danger, if it 
proceeds from self-interest rather than justice, is vicious." 

109 



110 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

would not take him aboard ; and that he stayed to see 
him sink. The Englishman at the same time observed 
a disorder in the vessel, which he rightly judged to , 
proceed from the disdain which the ship's crew had • 
of their captain 's inhumanity : With this hope, he 5 
went into his boat, and approached the enemy. He 
was taken in by the sailors in spite of their com- 
mander; but though they received him against his 
command, they treated him when he Avas in the ship 
in the manner he directed.^ Pottiere caused his menic 
to hold Goodwin while he beat him with a stick till he 
fainted with loss of blood, and rage of heart; after 
which he ordered him into irons, without allowing him 
any food but such as one or two of the men stole to 
him under peril of the like usage : After having kept ii 
him several days overwhelmed w^ith the misery of 
stench, hunger, and soreness, he brought him into 
Calais. The governor of the place was soon ac- 
quainted with all that had passed, dismissed Pottiere 
from his charge with ignominy, and gave Goodwin 2c 
all the relief which a man of honor would bestow upon 
an enemy barbarously treated, to recover the imputa- 
tion of cruelty upon his prince and country. 

When Mr. Sentry had read his letter, full of many 
other circumstances which aggravate the barbarity, 2e 
he fell into a sort of criticism upon magnanimity and 
courage, and argued that they were inseparable ; and 
that courage, without regard to justice and humanity, 
was no other than the fierceness of a wild beast. A 

1 Note the confusion of pronouns here. 



MAGNANIMITY OF MIND HI 

good and truly bold spirit, continued he, is ever actu- 
ated by reason and a sense of honor and duty : The 
affectation of such a spirit exerts itself in an impu- 
dent aspect, an overbearing confidence, and a certain 
5 negligence of g:iving offense. This is visible in all 
the cocking youths you see about this town, who are 
noisy in assemblies, unawed by the presence of wise 
and virtuous men; in a word, insensible of all the 
honors and decencies of humane life. A shameless 
10 fellow takes advantage of merit clothed with modesty 
and magnanimity, and in the eyes of little people 
appears sprightly and agreeable; while the man of 
resolution and true gallantry is overlooked and dis- 
regarded, if not despised. There is a propriety in all 
15 things ; and I believe what you scholars call just and 
sublime, in opposition to turgid and bombast, expres- 
sion may give you an idea of what I mean when I 
say modesty is the certain indication of a great 
spirit, and impudence the affectation of it. He that 
20 vv-rites with judgment, and never rises into improper 
vrarmths, manifests the true force of genius; in like 
manner, he who is quiet and equal in all his behavior 
is supported in that deportment by what we may call 
true courage. Alas, it is not so easy a thing to be a 
25 brave man as the unthinking part of mankind imag- 
ine: To dare is not all that there is in it. The pri- 
vateer we were just now talking of had boldness 
enough to attack his enemy, but not greatness of mind 
enough to admire the same quality exerted by that 
so enemy in defending himself. Thus his base and little 



112 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

mind was wholly taken up in the sordid regard to 
the prize, of which he failed, and the damage done 
to his own vessel; and therefore he nsed an honest 
man, who defended his own from him, in the manner 
as he wonld a thief that should rob him. 5 

He was equally disappointed, and had not spirit 
enough to consider that one case would be laudable, 
and the other criminal. Malice, rancor, hatred, venge- 
ance are what tear the breasts of mean men in fight ; 
but fame, glory, conquests, desires of opportunities toio 
pardon and oblige their opposers are what glow in 
the minds of the gallant. The captain ended his dis- 
course with a specimen of his book learning; and gave 
us to understand that he had read a French author 
on the subject of justness in point of gallantry. ''lis 
love," said Mr. Sentry, "a critic who mixes the rules 
of life with annotations upon writers. My author," 
added he, ^'in his discourse upon epic poems, takes 
occasion to speak of the same quality of courage drawn 
in the two different characters of Turnus and ^neas : 20 
He makes courage the chief and greatest ornament of 
Turnus ; but in ^neas there are many others which 
outshine it, among the rest that of piety. Turnus is 
therefore all along painted by the poet full of ostenta- 
tion, his language haughty and vainglorious, as plac-25 
ing his honor in the manifestation of his valor ; ^neas 
speaks little, is slow to action, and shows only a sort 
of defensive courage. - If equipage and address make 
Turnus appear more courageous than ^neas, conduct 
and success prove ^neas more valiant than Turnus. ' ' 30 



XIII 

HORSE PLAY 

[The Tatler, No. 45, III. — Steele. Saturday, July 23, 1709.1 
From my own Apartment, July 22. 

I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so 

little satisfaction as this evening ; for, you must know, 

I was five hours with three Merry, and two Honest, 

Fellows. The former sang catches; and the latter 

5 even died with laughing at the noise they made. 

"Well," says Tom Bellfrey, "you scholars, Mr. 
Bickerstaff, are the worst company in the world." 

"Ay," says his opposite, "you are dull tonight; 
pr'ythee be merry." 
10 "With that I huzzaed and took a jump cross the 
table, then came clever upon my legs, and fell a-laugh- 
ing. 

"Let Mr. Bickerstaff alone," saj^s one of the Honest 
Fellows; "when he is in a good humor, he is as good 
15 company as any man in England." 

He had no sooner spoke but I snatched his hat off 
his head and clapped it upon my own and burst out 
a-laughing again; upon which we all fell a-laughing 
for half an hour. One of the Honest Fellows got 
20 behind me in the interim and hit me a sound slap on 
the back; upon which he got the laugh out of my 

113 



114 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

hands ; and it was snch a twang on my shoulders that 
I confess he w^as much merrier than I. I was half 
angry ; but resolved to keep up the good humor of 
the company; and after hallooing as loud as I could 
possibly, I drank off a bumper of claret that made me 5 
stare again. 

"Nay," says one of the Honest Fellows, ''Mr. Isaac 
is in the right ; there is no conversation in this ; what 
signifies jumping, or hitting one another on the back ? 
let us drink about." lo 

We did so from seven of the clock until eleven ; and 
now I am come hither and, after the manner of the 
wise Pj^thagoras, begin to reflect upon the passages 
of the day. I remember nothing but that I am bruised 
to death ; and as it is my way to write down all the 15 
good things I have heard in the last conversation, to 
furnish my paper, I can from this only tell you my 
sufferings and my bangs. 

I named Pythagoras just now; and I protest to you, 
as he believed m^en after death entered into other 20 
species, I am now and then tempted to think other 
animals enter into men and could name several on 
two legs that never discover any sentiments above 
what is common with the species of a lower kind; as 
we see in these bodily wits with whom I Avas tonight, 25 
whose parts consist in strength and activity ; but their 
boisterous mirth gives me great impatience for the 
return of such happiness as I enjoyed in a conversa- 
tion last week. Among others in that company we 
had Plorio. who never interrupted any man living 30 



HOESE PLAY 115 

when he was speaking; or ever ceased to speak but 
others lamented that he had done. His discourse ever 
rises from the fullness of the matter before him and 
not from ostentation or triumph of his understand- 
5ing; for though he seldom delivers what he need fear 
being repeated, he speaks without having that end in 
view ; and his forbearance of calumny or bitterness is 
owing rather to his good nature than his discretion; 
for which reason he is esteemed a gentleman perfectly 

10 qualified for conversation, in whom a general good will 
to mankind takes off the necessity of caution and cir- 
cumspection. 

We had at the same time that evening the best sort 
of companion that can be ; a good-natured old man. 

15 This person in the company of young men meets with 
veneration for his benevolence ; and is not only valued 
for the good qualities of which he is master but reaps 
an acceptance from the pardon he gives to other men 's 
faults: and the ingenuous sort of men with whom he 

20 converses have so just a regard for him that he rather 
is an example than a check to their behavior. For 
this reason, as Senecio never pretends to be a man of 
pleasure before youth, so young men never set up for 
wisdom before Senecio ; so that you never meet where 

25 he is those monsters of conversation who are grave or 
gay above their years. He never converses but with 
followers of nature and good sense, where all that is 
uttered is only the effect of a communicable temper, 
and not of emulation to excel their companions ; all 

30 desire of superiority being a contradiction to that 



116 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

spirit which makes a just conversation, the very essence 
of which is mntnal good will. Hence it is that I take 
it for a rule that the natural, and not the acquired 
man, is the companion. Learning, wit, gallantry, and 
good breeding are all but subordinate qualities in soci- 5 
ety and are of no value but as they are subservient 
to benevolence and tend to a certain manner of being 
or appearing equal to the rest of the company; for 
conversation is composed of an assembly of men as 
they are men and not as they are distinguished 'byio 
fortune : therefore he who brings his quality with him 
into conversation should always pay the reckoning; 
for he came to receive homage and not to meet his 
friends. But the din about my ears from the clamor 
of the people I was with this evening has carried me 15 
beyond my intended purpose, which was to explain 
upon the order of merry fellows; but I think I may 
pronounce of them, as I heard good Senecio, with a 
spice of the wit of the last age, say, viz., *'That a 
merrv fellow is the saddest fellow in the world. ' ' 20 



XIV 

THE HONOE OF THE DUELIST 
[The Tatler, No. 25. — Steele. Tuesday, June 7, 1709,'] 



Quiequid agunt homines 

nostri est farrago libelli.i 

— Juvenal, 

White's Chocolate House, June 6. 

A letter from a young lady, written in the most 
passionate terms, wherein she laments the misfortune 
of a gentleman, her lover, who was lately wounded in 
a duel, has turned my thoughts to that subject and 

5 inclined me to examine into the causes which precipi- 
tate men into so fatal a folly. And as it has been 
proposed to treat of subjects of gallantry in the article 
from hence and no one point in nature is more proper 
to be considered by the company who frequent this 

10 place than that of duels, it is worth our consideration 
to examine into this chimerical, groundless humor 
and to lay every other thought aside, until we have 
stripped it of all its false pretenses to credit and repu- 
tation amongst men. 

15 But I must confess, w^hen I consider what I am 

i^'Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream. 
Our motley paper seizes for its theme. '^ 
117 



118 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

going about, and run over in my imagination all the 
endless crowd of men of honor who will be offended 
at such a discourse, I am undertaking, methinks, a 
work w^orthy an invulnerable hero in romance, rather 
than a private gentleman with a single rapier : but 5 
as I am pretty well acquainted by great opportunities 
with the nature of man and know of a truth that all 
men fight against their will, the danger vanishes and 
resolution rises upon this subject. For this reason, I 
shall talk very freely on a custom which all men wish lo 
exploded, though no man has courage enough to re- 
sist it. 

But there is one unintelligible word, which I fear 
will extremely perplex my dissertation and I confess 
to you I find very hard to explain, which is the term is 
^'satisfaction." An honest country gentleman had 
the misfortune to fall into company with two or three 
modern men of honor, where he happened to be very 
ill-treated; and one of the company, being conscious 
of his offense, sends a note to him in the morning and 20 
tells him he was ready to give him satisfaction. ' ' This 
is fine doing," says the plain fellow; "last night he 
sent me away cursedly out of humor, and this morning 
he fancies it would be a satisfaction to be run through 
the body." 25 

As the matter at present stands, it is not to do hand- 
some actions denominates a man of honor ; it is enough 
if he dares to defend ill ones. Thus you often see a 
common sharper in competition with a gentleman of 
the first rank; though all mankind is convinced thatso 



THE HONOR OF THE DUELIST 119 

a ■fighting gamester is only a pickpocket with the cour- 
age of a highwayman. One cannot with any patience 
reflect on the unaccountable jumble of persons and 
things in this town and nation, which occasions very 
5 frequently that a brave man falls by a hand below 
that of a common hangman and yet his executioner 
escapes the clutches of the hangman for doing it. I 
shall, therefore, hereafter consider how the bravest men 
in other ages and nations have behaved themselves 

10 upon such incidents as we decide by combat; and 
show, from their practice, that this resentment neither 
has its foundation from true reason or solid fame ;^ 
but is an imposture, made of cowardice, falsehood, and 
want of understanding. For this work, a good history 

15 of quarrels would be very edifying to the public and 
I apply myself to the town for particulars and cir- 
cumstances within their knowledge which may serve 
to embellish the dissertation with proper cuts. Most 
of the quarrels I have ever known have proceeded 

20 from some valiant coxcomb 's persisting in the wrong, 
to defend some prevailing folly and preserve himself 
from the ingenuousness of owning a mistake. 

By this means it is called "giving a man satisfac- 
tion," to urge your offense against him with your 

25 sword ; which puts me in mind of Peter 's order to the 
keeper in The Tale of a Tub: "if you neglect to do 
all this, damn you and your generation for ever : and 
so we bid you heartily farewell. ' ' If the contradiction 

1 Hasty English for ' ' has no foundation either from true 
reason or solid fame. ' ' 



120 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

in the very terms of one of our challenges were as well 
explained and turned into downright English, would 
it not run after this manner? 
'^Sir: 

"Tour extraordinary behavior last night and the 5 
liberty you were pleased to take with me makes me 
this morning give you this, to tell you, because you 
are an ill-bred puppy, I will meet you in Hyde Park 
an hour hence ; and because you want both breeding 
and humanity, I desire you would come with a pistol lo 
in your hand, on horseback, and endeavor to shoot me 
through the head, to teach you more manners. If you 
fail of doing me this pleasure. I shall say you are a 
rascal on every post in town : and so, sir, if you will 
not injure me more, I shall never forgive what you is 
have done already. Pray, sir, do not fail of getting 
everything ready; and you will infinitely oblige, Sir, 
Your most obedient humble servant, etc." 



XV 

IN A HOME CIRCLE 

[The Tailer, No. 95.— Steele. Thursday, November 17, 1709.] 

Interea dukes pendent circum oscula nati, 
Casta pudicitiam servat domus.i 

— Virgil. 

From my own Apartment, November 16. 

There are several persons who have many pleasures 
and entertainments in their possession which they do 
not enjoy. It is therefore a good and kind office to 
acquaint them with their own happiness, and turn 

5 their attention to such instances of their good fortune 
as they are apt to overlook. Persons in the married 
state often want such a monitor ; and pine away their 
days by looking upon the same condition in anguish 
and nnirmur which carries with it, in the opinion of 

loothers. a complication of all the pleasures of life and 
a retreat from its inquietudes. 

I am led into this thought by a visit I made an old 

1 ' ' His cares are eased with intervals of bliss, 
His little children, climbing for a kiss, 
Welcome their father's late return at night; 
His faithful bed is crowned with chaste delight." 

— John Dryden. 

121 



122 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

friend who was formerly my schoolfellow. He came 
to town last week with his family for the winter and 
yesterday morning sent me word his wife expected me 
to dinner. I am, as it were, at hom.e at that house and 
every member of it knows me for their well-wisher. 5 
I cannot indeed express the pleasure it is to be met 
by the children with so much joy as I am when I go 
thither. The boys and girls strive who shall come 
first, when they think it is I that am knocking at the 
door ; and that child which loses the race to me runs 10 
back again to tell the father it is Mr. Bickerstaff. 
This day I was led in by a pretty girl that we all 
thought must have forgot me ; for the family has been 
out of town these two years. Her knowing me again 
was a mighty subject with us and took up our dis-15 
course at the first entrance. After which, they began 
to rally me upon a thousand little stories they heard 
in the country about my marriage to one of my neigh- 
bor's daughters. Upon which the gentleman, my 
friend, said : 20 

"Nay, if Mr. Bickerstaff marries a child of any of 
his old companions, I hope mine shall have the prefer- 
ence; there is ]\Irs. Mary is now sixteen and would 
make him as fine a widow as the best of them. But 
I know him too well ; he is so enamored with the very 25 
memory of those who flourished in our youth that he 
will not so much as look upon the modern beauties. 
I remember, old gentleman, how often you went home 
in a day to refresh your countenance and dress when 
Teraminta reigned in your heart. As we came up inso 



IN A HOME CIECLE 123 

the coach, I repeated to my wife some of your verses 
on her." 

With such reflections on little passages which hap- 
pened long ago, we passed our time during a cheerful 

sand elegant meal. After dinner, his lady left the 
room, as did also the children. As soon as we were 
alone, he took me by the hand. "Well, my good 
friend," says he, "I am heartily glad to see thee; I 
was afraid you would never have seen all the com- 

lopany that dined with you today again. Do not you 
think the good woman of the house a little altered 
since you followed her from the playhouse to find out 
who she was for me?" 

I perceived a tear fall down his cheek as he spoke, 

15 which moved me not a little. But, to turn the dis- 
course, I said, "She is not indeed quite that creature 
she was, when she returned me the letter I carried 
from you ; and told me ' she hoped, as I was a gentle- 
man, I would be employed no more to trouble her, who 

20 had never offended me ; but would be so much the gen- 
tleman 's friend as to dissuade him from a pursuit 
which he could never succeed in. ' You may remember 
I thought her in earnest ; and you were forced to em- 
ploy your cousin Will, who made his sister get ac- 

25quainted with her for you. You cannot expect her 
to be for ever fifteen. ' ' 

"Fifteen!" replied my good friend: "Ah! you 
little understand, you that have lived a bachelor, how 
great, how exquisite a pleasure there is in being really 

30 beloved ! It is impossible that the most beauteous face 



124 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AnD STEELE 

in nature should raise in me such pleasing ideas as 
when I look upon that excellent woman. That fading 
in her countenance is chiefly caused by her watching 
with me in my fever. This was followed by a fit of sick- 
ness, which had like to have carried her off^ last win- 5 
ter. I tell you sincerely I have so many obligations 
to her that I cannot with any sort of moderation think 
of her present state of health. But as to what you 
say of fifteen, she gives me every day pleasures beyond 
what I ever knew in the possession of her beauty, when lo 
I was in the vigor of youth. Every moment of her 
life brings me fresh instances of her complacency to 
my inclinations and her prudence in regard to my for- 
tune. Her face is to me much more beautiful than 
when I first saw it; there is no decay in any feature is 
which I cannot trace from the very instant it was 
occasioned by some anxious concern for my welfare 
and interests. Thus, at the same time, methinks, the 
love I conceived toward her for what she was is 
heightened by my gratitude for what she is. The love 20 
of a wife is as much above the idle passion commonly 
called by that name as the loud laughter of buffoons 
is inferior to the elegant mirth of gentlemen. Oh ! 
she is an inestimable jewel. In her examination of 
her household affairs, she shows a certain f earfulness 25 
to find a fault which makes her servants obey her like 
children ; and the meanest we have has an ingenuous 
shame for an offense not always to be seen in children 

^ * * Came near carrying her off. ' ' Steele 's expression is no 
longer good English. 



IN A HOME CIECLE 125 

in other families. I speak freely to you, my old friend ; 
ever since her sickness, things that gave me the quick- 
est joy before turn now to a certain anxiety. As the 
children play in the next room, I know the poor things 

5 by their steps and am considering what they must do 
should they lose their mother in their tender years. 
The pleasure I used to take in telling my boy stories 
of battles and asking my girl questions about the dis- 
posal of her baby and the gossiping of it is turned into 

10 inward reflection and melancholj^ ' ' 

He would have gone on in this tender way when 
the good lady entered and, with an inexpressible sweet- 
ness in her countenance, told us she had been search- 
ing her closet for something very good to treat such 

15 an old friend as I was. Her husband 's eyes sparkled 
with pleasure at the cheerfulness of her countenance ; 
and I saw all his fears vanish in an instant. The lady, 
observing something in our looks which showed we 
had been more serious than ordinary and seeing her 

20 husband receive her wdth great concern under a forced 
cheerfulness, immediately guessed at what we had 
been talking of; and, applying herself to me, said, 
with a smile, "Mr. Bickerstaff, do not believe a word 
of what he tells you ; I shall still live to have you for 

25 my second, as I have often promised you, unless he 
takes more care of himself than he has done since his 
coming to town. You must know he tells me that he 
finds London is a much more healthy place than the 
country; for he sees several of his old acquaintance 

30 and schoolfellows are here young fellows wdth fair 



126 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

full-bottomed periwigs. I could scarce keep him this 
morning from going out open-breasted." 

My friend, who is always extremely delighted with 
her agreeable humor, made her sit down with us. She 
did it with that easiness which is peculiar to women 5 
of sense ; and, to keep up the good humor she had 
brought in with her, turned her raillery upon me. 
* ' Mr. Bickerstaff , you remember you followed me one 
night from the playhouse ; suppose you should carry ^ 
me thither tomorrow night and lead me into the front lo 
box." 

This put us into a long field of discourse about the 
beauties who were mothers to the present and shined^ 
in the boxes twenty years ago. I told her, ' ' I was glad 
she had transferred so many of her charms and I did is 
not question but her eldest daughter was within half 
a year of being a toast. ' ' 

We were pleasing ourselves with this fantastical 
preferment of the young lady, when on a sudden Ave 
were alarmed with the noise of a drum and imme- 20 
diately entered my little godson to give me a point 
of war. His mother, between laughing and chiding, 
would have put him out of the room; but I would 
not part with him so. I found upon conversation 
with him, though he was a little noisy in his mirth, 25 
that the child had excellent parts and was a great 
master of all the learning on the other side eight 
years old. I perceived him a very great historian in 
M sop's Fables: but he frankly declared to me his 
1 Shone. 



IN A HOME CIECLE 127 

mind, 'that he did not delight in that learning, be- 
cause he did not believe they were true;' for which 
reason I found he had very much turned his studies, 
for about a twelvemonth past, into the lives and ad- 
5 ventures of Don Belianis of Greece, Guy of Warwick, 
the Seven Champions, and other historians of that age. 
I could not but observe the satisfaction the father took 
in the forwardness of his son; and, that these diver- 
sions might turn to some profit, I found the boy had 

10 made remarks, which might be of service to him 
during the course of his whole life. He would tell 
you the mismanagements of John Hickerthrift, find 
fault with the passionate temper in Bevis of South- 
ampton, and loved Saint George for being the cham- 

ispion of England; and by this means had his thoughts 
insensibly molded into the notions of discretion, vir- 
tue, and honor. I was extolling his accomplishments, 
when the mother told me, that the little girl who 
led me in this morning, was, in her way, a better 

20 scholar than he. "Betty," said she, ''deals chiefly in 
fairies and sprites, and sometimes in a winter night 
will terrify the maids with her accounts, until they 
are afraid to go up to bed." 

I sat with them until it was very late, sometimes 

25 in merry, sometimes in serious discourse, with this 
particular pleasure, which gives the only true relish 
to all conversation, a sense that every one of us liked 
each other. ^ I went home, considering the different 
conditions of a married life and that of a bachelor; 
^ Every one of us liked all the rest. 



128 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

and I must confess it struck me with a secret concern 
to reflect that whenever I go off I shall leave no traces 
behind me. -In this pensive mood I returned to my 
family ; that is to say, to my maid, my dog, and my cat, 
who only can be the better or worse for what happens 5 
to me. 



XYI 

IN ANOTHER HOME CIRCLE 

[The Tatler, No. 150.— Steele. Saturday, March 25, 1710.] 

Haec sunt jucundi causa, cibusque mali.i 

— Ovid. 

From my own Apartment, March 24. 

I have received the following letter upon the sub- 
ject of my last paper. The writer of it tells me I there 
spoke of marriage as one that knows it only by specu- 
lation and for that reason he sends me his sense of it, 

5 as drawn from experience : 
''Mr. Bicker staff,— 

' ' I have received your paper of this day and think 
you have done the nuptial state a great deal of justice 
in the authority you give us of Pliny, whose letters 

10 to his wife you have there translated. But give me 
leave to tell you that it is impossible for you, that are 
a bachelor, to have so just a notion of this way of life 
as to touch the affections of your readers in a par- 
ticular wherein every man's own heart suggests more 

15 than the nicest observer can form to himself without 
experience. I, therefore, w^ho am an old married man, 

1 ^ ( 'Tis this that causes and foments the evil 
And gives us pleasure mixed with pain." 

— B,. Wynne. 
129 



130 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

have sat down to give you an account of the matter 
from my own knowledge and the observations which 
I have made upon the conduct of others in that most 
agreeable or wretch'ed condition. 

* ' It is very commonly observed that the most smart 5 
pangs which we meet with are in the beginning of 
wedlock, which proceed from ignorance of each 
other's humor and want of prudence to make allow- 
ances for a change from the most careful respect to 
the most unbounded familiarity. Hence it arises that 10 
trifles are commonly occasions of the greatest anxiety ; 
for contradiction being a thing wholly unusual be- 
tween a new-married couple, the smallest instance of 
it is taken for the highest injury ; and it very seldom 
happens that the man is slow enough in assuming the is 
character of a husband or the woman quick enough 
in condescending to that of a wife. It immediately 
follows that they think they have all the time of their 
courtship been talking in masks to each other and 
therefore begin to act like disappointed people. Phi- 20 
lander finds Delia ill-natured and impertinent and 
Delia, Philander surly and inconstant. 

''I have known a fond couple quarrel in the very 
honeymoon about cutting up a tart : nay, I could name 
two who, after having had seven children, fell out 25 
upon the boiling of a leg of mutton. My very next 
neighbors have not spoke to one another these three 
days, because they difiPered in their opinions whether 
the clock should stand by the window or over the 
chimney. It may seem strange to you, who are not a so 



IN ANOTHER HOME CIECLE 131 

married man, when I tell you liow the least trifle can 
strike a woman dumb for a week together. But, if 
you ever enter into this state, you will find that the 
soft sex as often express their anger by an obstinate 

5 silence as by an ungovernable clamor, 

' ' Those indeed who begin this course of life without 
jars at their setting out arrive within few months^ at 
a pitch of benevolence and affection of which the 
most perfect friendship is but a faint resemblance. 

10 As in the unfortunate marriage, the most minute and 
indifferent things are objects of the sharpest resent- 
ment; so in a happy one, they are occasions of the 
most exquisite satisfaction. For, what does not oblige 
in one we love? What does not offend in one we dis- 

15 like? For these reasons I take it for a rule that in. 
marriage the chief business is to acquire a preposses- 
sion in favor of each other. They should consider one 
another's words and actions with a secret indulgence^ 
There should be always an inward fondness pleading- 

20 for each other, such as may add new beauties to every 
thing that is excellent, give charms to what is indiffer- 
ent, and cover every thing that is defective. For want 
of this kind propensity and bias of mind, the married 
pair often take things ill of each other which no one 

25 else would take notice of in either of them. ; 

"But the most unhappy circumstance of all is where 
each party is always laying up fuel for dissension and 
gathering together a magazine of provocations to exas- 
perate each other with when they are out of humor. 
1 Within a few months. s, 



132 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

These people, in common discourse, make no scruple 
to let those who are by know they are quarreling with 
one another; and think they are discreet enough, if 
they conceal from the company the matters which 
they are hinting at. About a w^eek ago, I was enter- 5 
tained for a whole dinner with a mysterious conver- 
sation of this nature : out of which I could learn no 
more than that the husband and wife were an^ry at 
one another. AVe had no sooner sat down but says the 
gentleman of the house, in order to raise discourse, 10 
' I thought Margarita sung, extremely well last night. ' 

"Upon this, says the lady, looking as pale as ashes, 
'I suppose she had cherry-colored ribbons on.' 

'' 'No,' answered the husband, with a flush in his 
face, 'but she had laced shoes.' 15 

"I look upon it that a stander-by on such occasions 
has as much' reason to be out of countenance as either 
of the combatants. To turn off my confusion and 
seem regardless of what had passed, I desired the 
servant who attended to give me the vinegar, which 20 
unluckily created a new dialogue of hints ; for, as far 
as I could gather by the subsequent discourse, they 
had dissented the day before about the preference of 
elder to wine vinegar. In the midst of their discourse, 
there appeared a dish of chicken and asparagus, when 25 
the husband seemed disposed to lay aside all disputes ; 
and, looking upon her with a great deal of good 
nature, said, 'Pray, my dear, will you help my friend 
to a wing of the fowl that lies next you, for I think 
it looks extremely well.' so 



IN ANOTHEB HOME CIECLE 133 

''The lady, instead of answering him, addressing 

herself to me, 'Pray, sir,' said she, 'do you in Surrey 

reckon the white or the black-legged fowls the best?' 

' ' I found the husband change color at the question ; 

5 and before I could answer, asked me,^ 'Whether we did 
not call hops broom in our country?' 

"I quickly found they did not ask questions so 
much out of curiosity as anger: for which reason I 
thought fit to keep my opinion to myself and, as an 

10 honest man ought, when he sees two friends in warmth 
with each other, I took the first opportunity I could 
to leave them by themselves. 

"You see, sir, I have laid before you only small 
incidents, which are seemingly frivolous: but take it 

15 from a m.an very well experienced in this state, they 
are principally evils of this nature which make mar- 
riages unhappy. At the same time, that I may do 
justice to this excellent institution, I must ovni to you 
there are unspeakable pleasures which are as little 

20 regarded in the computation of the advantages of 
marriage as the others are in the usual survey that is 
made of its misfortunes. 

"Lovemore and his wife live together in the happy 
possession of each other's hearts and, by that means, 

25 have no indifferent moments but their whole life is 
one continued scene of delight. Their passion for 
each other communicates a certain satisfaction, like 
that which they themselves are in, to all that approach 
them. "When she enters the place where he is, you 
i AsTced me should be ''he asked me." 



134 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

see a pleasure which he cannot conceal, nor he, or any- 
one else, describe. In so consummate an affection, the 
very presence of the person beloved has the effect of 
the most agreeable conversation. Whether they have 
matter to talk of or not, they enjoy the pleasures of 5 
society and at the same time the freedom of solitude. 
Their ordinary life is to be preferred to the happiest 
moments of other lovers. In a word, they have each 
of them great merit, live in the esteem of all who know 
them, and seem but to comply with the opinions of lo 
their friends, in the just value they have for each 
other/' 



XVII 

SEKVANTS 

[The Spectator, No. 137. — Steele. Tuesday, August 7, 1711.] 

At haec etiam servis semper libera fuerunt, timerent, 
gauderent, dolerent, suo potius quam alterius arbitrio.i 

— Cicero. 

It is no small concern to me that I find so many 
complaints from that part of mankind whose portion 
it is to live in servitude that those whom they depend 
upon will not allow them to be even as happy as 

5 their condition will admit of. There are, as these 
unhappy correspondents inform me, masters who are 
offended at a cheerful countenance, and think a serv- 
ant is broke loose from them, if he does not preserve 
the utmost awe in their presence. There is one who 

10 says, if he looks satisfied, his master asks him what 
makes him so pert this morning; if a little sour, 
"Hark ye, sirrah, are not you paid your wages?" 
The poor creatures live in the most extreme misery 
together. The master knows not how to preserve 

15 respect, nor the servant how to give it. It seems this 
person is of so sullen a nature that he knows but 

I'^Even slaves were always at liberty to fear, rejoice, and 
grieve at their own rather than another's pleasure." 

135 



136 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

little satisfaction in the midst of a plentiful fortune, 
and secretly frets to see any appearance of content 
in one that lives upon the hundredth part of his 
income, who is unhappy in the possession of the 
whole. Uneasy persons, who cannot possess their ov^^n 5 
minds, vent their spleen upon all who depend upon 
them ; which, I think, is expressed in a lively manner 
in the following letters. 

''August 2, 1711. 
' Sir, 10 

'*I have read your Spectator of the 3d of the last 
month, and wish I had the happiness of being pre- 
ferred to serve so good a master as Sir Koger. The 
character of my master is the very reverse of that 
good and gentle knight 's. All his directions are given, 15 
and his mind revealed by way of contraries : As when 
any thing is to be remembered, with a peculiar cast 
of face, he cries, ' Be sure to forget now. ' If I am to 
make haste back, 'Don't come these two hours; be 
sure to call by the way upon some of your compan-20 
ions.' Then another excellent way of his is, if he 
sets me any thing to do which he knows must neces- 
sarily take up half a day, he calls ten times in a quar- 
ter of an hour to know whether I have done yet. This 
is his manner, and the same perverseness runs through 25 
all his actions, according as the circumstances varj^ 
Besides all this, he is so suspicious that he submits 
himself to the drudgery of a spy. He is as unhappy 
himself as he makes his servants. He is constantly 
watching us, and we differ no more in pleasure and 30 



SERVANTS 137 

liberty than as a jailer and a prisoner. He lays traps 
for faults, and no sooner makes a discovery but falls 
into such language as I am more ashamed of for com- 
ing from him than for being directed to me. This, 
5 sir, is a short sketch of a master I have served up- 
wards of nine years ; and though I have never wronged 
him, I confess my despair of pleasing him has very 
much abated my endeavor to do it. If you will give 
me leave to steal a sentence out of my master's Clar- 

10 endon, I shall tell you my case in a word, 'Being used 
worse than I deserved, I cared less to deserve well 
than I had done.' I am, 

^'Sir, 

"Your humble servant, 

15 ''RxVLPH Yalet." 

''Dear Mr. Specter, 

"I am the next thing to a lady's woman, and am 
under both my lady and her woman. I am so used 
by them both that I should be very glad to see them 

20 in the Specter. My lady herself is of no mind in the 
world, and for that reason her woman is of twenty 
minds in a moment. My lady is one that never knows 
what to do with herself; she pulls on and puts off 
every thing she wears twenty times before she resolves 

25 upon it for that day. I stand at one end of the room, 
and reach things to her woman. Wlien my lady asks 
for a thing, I hear and have half brought it, when 
the woman meets me in the middle of the room to 
receive it, and, at that instant, she says, ' No ! she will 

30 not have it.' Then I go back, and her woman comes 



138 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

up to her, and by this time she will have that, and 
two or three things more in an instant: The woman 
and I run to each other; I am loaded and delivering 
the things to her when my lady says she wants none 
of. all these things, and we are the dullest creatures 5 
in the world, and she the unhappiest woman living, 
for she shan 't be dressed in any time. Thus we stand 
not knowing what to do, when our good lady with all 
the patience in the world tells us as plain as she can 
speak that she will have temper because we have no lo 
manner of understanding, and begins again to dress, 
and see if we can find out of ourselves what we are 
to do. When she is dressed she goes to dinner, and 
after she has disliked every thing there, she calls for 
the coach, then commands it in again, and then she is 
will not go out at all, and then will go, too, and orders 
the chariot. Now, good Mr. Specter, I desire you 
would, in the behalf of all who serve froward ladies, 
give out in your paper that nothing can be done with- 
out allowing time for it, and that one cannot be back 20 
again with what one was sent for if one is called back 
before one can go a step for that they want. And if 
you please let them know that all mistresses are as like 
as all servants. I am, 

''Your loving friend, 25 

"Patience Giddy." 
These are great calamities ; but I met the other day 
in the five fields toward Chelsea, a pleasanter tyrant 
than either of the above represented. A fat fellow 
was puffing on in his open waistcoat ; a boy of fourteen so 



SEEVANTS 139 

in a livery carrying after him liis cloak, upper coat, 
hat, wig, and sword. The poor lad was ready to sink 
with the weight, and could not keep up with his mas- 
ter, who turned back every half furlong, and won- 
5 dered what made the lazy young dog lag behind. 

There is something very unaccountable that people 
cannot put themselves in the condition of the persons 
below them when they consider the commands they 
give. But there is nothing more common than to 

10 see a fellow (who, if he were reduced to it, would not 
be hired by any man living) lament that he is troubled 
with the most worthless dogs in nature. 

It would, perhaps, be running too far out of com- 
mon life to urge that he who is not master of himself 

15 and his own passions cannot be a proper master of 
another. Equanimity in a man's own words and 
actions will easily diffuse itself through his whole 
family. Pamphilio has the happiest household of any 
man I know, and that proceeds from the human re- 

20 gard he has to them in their private persons as well 
as in respect that they are his servants. If there be 
any occasion wherein they may in themselves be sup- 
posed to be unfit to attend their master's concerns, 
by reason of any attention to their own, he is so good 

25 as to place himself in their condition. I thought it 
very becoming in him when, at dinner, the other day, 
he made an apology for want of more attendants. He 
said, "One of my footmen is gone to the wedding of 
his sister, and the other I don 't expect to wait, because 

30 his father died but two days ago. ' ' 



XYIII 

A FILIAL DAUGHTEE 

[From The Spectator, No. 466. — Steele. Monday, August 

25, 1712.1 

''Mr. Spectator, 

''I am a widower with but one daughter; she was 
by nature much inclined to be a romp, and I had no 
way of educating her but commanding a young woman, 
whom I entertained to take care of her, to be very 5 
watchful in her care and attendance about her. I 
am a man of business, and obliged to be much abroad. 
The neighbors have told me that in my absence our 
maid has let in the spruce servants in the neighbor- 
hood to junketings, while my girl played and romped, 10 
even in the street. To tell you the plain truth, I 
catched her once, at eleven years old, at chuck- 
farthing among the boys. This put me upon new 
thoughts about my child, and I determined to place 
her at a boarding-school, and at the same time gave 15 
a very discreet young gentlewoman her maintenance, 
at the same place and rate, to be her companion. I 
took little notice of my girl from time to time, but 
saw her now and then in good health, out of harm's 
way, and w^as satisfied. But by much importunity, 1 20 
was lately prevailed with to go to one of their balls. 

140 



A FILIAL DAUGHTER 141 

I cannot express to you the anxiety my silly heart 
was in, when I saw my romp, now fifteen, taken out: 
I never felt the pangs of a father upon me so strongly 
in my whole life before ; and I could not have suffered 

5 more, had my whole fortune been at stake. My girl 
came on with the most becoming modesty I had ever 
seen, and casting a respectful eye,^ as if she feared 
me more than all the audience, I gave a nod, which, 
I think, gave her all the spirit she assumed upon it, 

10 but she rose properly to that dignity of aspect. My 
romp, now the most graceful person of her sex, as- 
sumed a majesty which commanded the highest re- 
spect; and when she turned to me, and saw my face 
in rapture, she fell into the prettiest smile, and I 

15 saw in all her motion that she exulted in her father 's 
satisfaction. You, Mr. Spectator, will, better than 
I can tell you, imagine to yourself all the different 
beauties and changes of aspect in an accomplished 
young w^oman, setting forth all her beauties with a 

20 design to please no one so much as her father. My 
girl's lover can never know half the satisfaction that 
I did in her that day. I could not possibly have 
imagined that so great improvement could have been 
wrought by an art that I always held in itself ridicu- 

25I0US and contemptible. There is, I am convinced, no 
method like this to give young women a sense of 
their own value and dignity ; and I am sure there can 
be none so expeditious to communicate that value to 
others. As for the flippant, insipidly gay, and wan- 
1 An ungrammatieal use of the participial phrase. 



142 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

tonly forward, whom you behold among dancers, that 
carriage is more to be attributed to the perverse 
genius of the performers than imputed to the art 
itself. For my part, my child has danced herself 
into my esteem, and I have as great an honor for her 5 
as ever I had for her mother, from whom she derived 
those latent good qualities which appeared in her 
countenance, when she was dancing; for my ^irl, 
though I say it myself, showed, in one-quarter of an 
hour, the innate principles of a modest virgin, a ten- 10 
der wife, a generous friend, a kind mother, and an 
indulgent mistress. I'll strain hard, but I will pur- 
chase for her an husband suitable to her merit. I am 
your convert in the admiration of what I thought 
you jested when you recommended^ ; and if you please 15 
to be at my house on Thursday next, I make a ball 
for my daughter, and you shall see her dance, or, if 
you will do her that honor, dance with her, 
''I am. sir, 

^'Your most humble servant, 20 

Philipater. ' ' 

1 Awkward Englisli for ''Of what I thought you jested of 
when you recommended it.'' 



XIX 

THE CHAEM OF WOMAN 

[The Spectator, No. 306. — Steele. Wednesday, February 20 , 

1711-12.] 

Quae forma, ut se tibi semper 

Imputet? 1 

— Juvenal. 

*'Mr. Spectator: 

"I write this to communicate to you a misfortune 
which frequently happens, and therefore deserves a 
consolatory discourse on the subject. I was within 
5 this half-year in the possession of as much beauty 
and as many lovers as any young lady in England. 
But my admirers have left me, and I cannot com- 
plain of their behavior. I have within that time had 
the smallpox; and this face, which (according to 

10 many amorous epistles which I have by me) was the 
seat of all that is beautiful in woman, is now disfig- 
ured with scars. It goes to the very soul of me to 
speak what I really think of my face; and though I 
think I did not overrate my beauty while I had it, 

15 it has extremely advanced in its value with me now 

1 ' ' What dignity of deportment, what beauty, can compen- 
sate for your wife's always throwing her own worth in your 
teeth ? ' ' — Lewis Evans. 

143 



144 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

it is lost. There is one circumstance which makes my 
case very particular ; the ugliest fellow that ever pre- 
tended to me was, and is most in my favor, and he 
treats me at present the most unreasonably. If you 
could make him return an obligation which he owes 5 

me, in liking a person that is not amiable^; But 

there is, I fear, no possibility of making passion move 
by the rules of reason and gratitude. But say what 
you can to one who has survived herself, and knows 
not how to act in a new being. My lovers are at the lo 
feet of my rivals, my rivals are every day bewailing 
me, and I cannot enjoy what I am, by reason of the 
distracting reflection upon what I was. Consider the 
woman I was did not die of old age, but I was taken 
off in the prime of my youth, and according to the 15 
course of nature may have forty years after-life to 
come. I have nothing of myself left which I like, 
but that 

*^I am, Sir, 

"Your most humble servant, 20 

"Parthenissa. " 

When Lewis of France had lost the battle of Ra- 
millies, the addresses to him at that time were full 
of his fortitude, and they turned his misfortune to 
his glory; in that, during his prosperity, he could 25 
never have manifested his heroic constancy under 
distresses, and so the world had lost the most eminent 
part of his character. Parthenissa 's condition gives 

^A personal appearance that is not attractive. 



THE CHAEM OF WOMAN 145 

her the same opportunity ; and to resign conquests is a 
task as difficult in a beauty as an hero. In the very 
entrance upon this work she must burn all her love 
letters; or, since she is so candid as not to call her 
5 lovers, who follow her no longer, unfaithful, it would 
be a very good beginning of a new life from that of 
a beauty to send them back to those who writ them, 
with this honest inscription. Articles of a Marriage 
Treaty Broken Off by the Smallpox. I have known 
10 but one instance where a matter of this kind went on 
after a like misfortune; where the lady, who was a 
woman of spirit, writ this billet to her lover : 
^'Sir, 

If you flattered me before I had this terrible mai- 
ls ady, pray come and see me now. But if you sincerely 
liked me, stay away; for I am not the same 

CORINNA. ' ' 

The lover thought there was something so sprightly 
in her behavior that he answered: 

20 ' ' Madam, 

I am not obliged, since you are not the same 
woman, to let you know whether I flattered you or 
not; but I assure you I do not, when I tell you I now 
like you above all your sex and hope you will bear 

25 what may befall me when we are both one as well as 
you do what happens to yourself now you are single ; 
therefore I am ready to take such a spirit for my 
companion as soon as you please. Amilcar/' 

If Parthenissa can now possess her own mind, and 



146 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

think as little of her beauty as she ought to have 
done when she had it, there will be no great diminu- 
tion of her charms; and if she was formerly affected 
too much with them, an easy behavior will more than 
make up for the loss of them. Take the whole sex 5 
together, and you find those who have the strongest 
possession of men's hearts are not eminent for their 
beauty) You see it often happen that those who en- 
gage men to the greatest • violence are such as those 
who are strangers to them would take to be remark- lo 
ably defective for that end. The fondest lover I 
know said to me one day in a crowd of women at an 
entertainment of music: "You have often heard me 
talk of my beloved; that woman there," continued he, 
smiling when he had fixed my eye, "is her very 15 
picture." The lady he showed me was by much the 
least remarkable for beauty of any in the whole as- 
sembly; but, having my curiosity extremely raised, I 
could not keep my eyes off of her. Her eyes at last 
met mine, and with a sudden surprise she looked 20 
round her to see who near her was remarkably 
handsome that I was gazing at. This little act ex- 
plained the secret: She did not understand herself 
for the object of love, and therefore she was so. The 
lover is a very honest plain man ; and what charmed 25 
him was a person that goes along with him in the 
cares and joys of life, not taken up with herself, but 
sincerely attentive with a ready and cheerful mind 
to accompany him in either. 

I can tell Parthenissa for her comfort that the so 



THE CHAEM OF WOMAN 147 

beauties, generally spealiing, are the most impertinent 
and disagreeable of women. An apparent desire of 
admiration, a reflection upon their own merit, and a 
precise behavior in their general conduct are almost 

5 inseparable accidents in beauties. All you obtain of 

them is granted to importunity and solicitation for 

what did not deserve so much of your time, and you 

recover from the possession of it, as out of a dream. 

You are ashamed of the vagaries of fancy wiiich so 

10 strangely misled you, and your admiration of a beauty, 
merely as such is inconsistent with a tolerable reflec- 
tion upon yourself. The cheerful, good-humored 
creatures, into whose heads it never entered that they 
could make any man unhappy, are the persons formed 

15 for making men happy. There's Miss Liddy can 
dance a jig, raise paste, write a good hand, keep an 
account, give a reasonable answer, and do as she is 
bid, while her elder sister. Madam Martha, is out of 
humor, has the spleen, learns by reports of people of 

20 higher quality new ways of being uneasy and dis- 
pleased. And this happens for no reason in the 
world but that poor Liddy knows she has no such 
thing as 'a certain negligence that is so becoming,' 
that there is not 'I know not what in her air.' And 

25 that if she talks like a fool, there is no one will say, 
"Well! I know not what it is, but everything pleases 
when she speaks it. 

Ask any of the husbands of your great beauties, and 
they '11 tell you that they hate their wives nine hours 

so of every day they pass together. There is such a 



148 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

particularity forever affected by them that they are 
encumbered with their charms in all they say or do. 
They pray at public devotions as they are beauties; 
they converse on ordinary occasions as they are beaii- 
ties. Ask Belinda what it is o 'clock, and she is at a 5 
stand whether so great a beauty should answer you. 
In a word, I think instead of offering to administer 
consolation to Parthenissa, I should congratulate her 
metamorphosis; and however she thinks she was not 
in the least insolent in the prosperity of her charms, 10 
she was enough so to find she may make herself a 
much more agreeable creature in her present adversity. 
The endeavor to please is highly promoted by a con- 
sciousness that the approbation of the person you 
would be agreeable to is a favor you do not deserve ; 15 
for in this case assurance of success is the most 
certain way to disappointment. Good nature will 
always supply the absence of beauty, but beauty 
cannot long supply the absence of good nature. 

P. S. 20 

*' Madam, - February 18. 

I have yours of this day, wherein you twice bid 
me not disoblige you, but you must explain yourself 
further before I know what to do. 

Your most obedient servant, 25 

The Spectator." 



XX 

YAEICO AND INKLE 

[The Spectator, No. 11. — Steele. Thursday, March 13, 

1711-lS.] 

Dat veniam eorvis, vesat censura columhas.i 

— Juvenal. 

Arietta is visited by all persons of both sexes who 
have any pretense to wit and gallantry. She is in 
that time of life which is neither affected with the 
follies of youth, or infirmities of age;- and her con- 

Bversation is so mixed with gayety and prudence that 
she is agreeable both to the young and the old. Her 
behavior is very frank, without being in the least 
blamable; and as she is out of the track of any 
amorous or ambitious pursuits of her own, her vis- 

loitants entertain her with accounts of themselves very 
freely, whether they concern their passions or their 
interests. I made her a visit this afternoon, having 
been formerly introduced to the honor of her acquaint- 
ance, by my friend Will Honeycomb, who has pre- 

15 vailed upon her to admit me sometimes into her 

1 ''Acquit the vultures and condemn the doves." — William 
Gifford. 

• A blunder for ' * affected neither with the follies of youth 
nor with the infirmities of age." 

149 



150 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

assembly, as a civil, inoffensive man. I found her 
accompanied with one person only, a commonplace 
talker, who, upon my entrance, rose, and after a very 
slight civility sat down again; then turning to 
Arietta, pursued his discourse, which I found was 5 
upon the old topic of constancy in love. He went 
on with great facility in repeating what he talks 
every day of his life; and with the ornaments of 
insignificant laughs and gestures, enforced his argu- 
ments by quotations out of plays and songs, which lo 
allude to the perjuries of the fair, and the general 
levity of women. Methought he strove to shine more 
than ordinarily in his talkative way that he might 
insult my silence and distinguish himself before a 
woman of Arietta 's taste and understanding. She 15 
had often an inclination to interrupt him, but could 
find no opportunity, till the larum ceased of itself; 
which it did not till he had repeated and murdered 
the celebrated story of the Ephesian Matron. 

Arietta seemed to regard this piece of raillery as 20 
an outrage done to her sex; as indeed I have always 
observed that women, whether out of a nicer regard 
to their honor, or what other reason I cannot tell, 
are more sensibly touched wdth those general asper- 
sions which are cast upon their sex than men are by 25 
what is said of theirs. 

When she had a little recovered herself from the 
serious anger she was in, she replied in the following 
manner. 

Sir, AA^hen I consider how perfectly new all you so 



YAEICO AND INKLE 151 

have said on this subject is, and that the story you 
have given us is not quite two thousand years old, 
I cannot but think it a piece of presumption to dispute 
with you : but your quotations put me in mind of the 

5 fable of the lion and the man. The man, walking 
with that noble animal, sho^ved him, in the ostentation 
of human superiority a sign of a man killing a lion. 
Upon which the lion said very justly. We lions are 
none of us painters, else we could show a hundred 

10 men killed by lions, for one lion killed by a man. 
You men are writers and can represent us women as 
unbecoming as you please in your works, while we are 
unable to return the injury. You have twice or thrice 
observed in your discourse that hypocrisy is the very 

15 foundation of our education ; and that an ability to 
dissemble our affections is a professed part of our 
breeding. These, and such other reflections, are 
sprinkled up and down the writings of all ages, by 
authors, who leave behind them memorials of their 

20 resentment against the scorn of particular women in 
invectives against the whole sex. Such a writer, I 
doubt not, was the celebrated Petronius, who invented 
the pleasant aggravations of the frailty of the 
Ephesian lady; but when we consider this question 

25 between the sexes, which has been either a point of 
dispute or raillery^ ever since there were men and 
women, let us take facts from plain people, and from 
such as have not either ambition or capacity to embel- 
lish their narrations with any beauties of imagination. 
1 An error for ' ' a point either of dispute or of raillery. ' ' 



152 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

I was the other day amusing myself with Ligon's 
account of Barbadoes; and, in answer to your well 
wrought tale, I will give you (as it dwells upon my 
memory) out of that honest traveler, in his fifty-fifth 
page, the history of Inkle and Yarico. • 5 

]\Ir. Thomas Inkle, of London, aged twenty years, 
embarked in the Downs, on the good ship called the 
Achilles, bound for the West Indies, on the 16th of 
June, 1647, in order to improve his fortune by trade 
and merchandise. Our adventurer was the third son lo 
of an eminent citizen, who had taken particular care 
to instill into his mind an early love of gain, by 
making him a perfect master of numbers, and conse- 
quently giving him a quick view of loss and advantage, 
and preventing the natural impulses of his passions, i5 
by prepossession toward his interests. With a mind 
thus turned, young Inkle had a person every way 
agreeable, a ruddy vigor in his countenance, strength 
in his limbs, with ringlets of fair hair loosely flowing 
on his shoulders. It happened, in the course of the 20 
voyage, that the Achilles, in some distress, put into a 
creek on the Main of America, in search of pro- 
visions. The youth, who is the hero of my story, 
among others, went ashore on this occasion. From 
their first landing they were observed by a party of 25 
Indians, who hid themselves in the woods for that 
purpose. The English unadvisedly marched a great 
distance from the shore into the country, and were 
intercepted by the natives, who slew the greatest 
number of them. Our adventurer escaped among so 



YAEICO AND INKLE 153 

others, by flying into a forest. Upon his coming 
into a remote and pathless part of the wood, he threw 
himself, tired and breathless, on a little hillock, when 
an Indian maid rushed from a thicket behind him: 

5 After the first surprise they appeared mutually agree- 
able to each other. If the European was highly 
charmed with the features and wild graces of the 
naked American; the American was no less taken 
with the dress, complexion, and shape of an European, 

10 covered from head to foot. The Indian grew imme- 
diately enamored of him, and consequently solicitous 
for his preservation : she therefore conveyed him to a 
cave, where she gave him a delicious repast of fruits, 
and led him to a stream to slake his thirst. In the 

15 midst of these good offices, she would sometimes play 
with his hair, and delight in the opposition of its color 
to that of her fingers. She was, it seems, a person 
of distinction, for she every day came to him in a 
different dress, of the most beautiful shells, bugles, 

20 and bredes. She likewise brought him a great many 
spoils, which her other lovers had presented to her; 
so that his cave was richly adorned with all the 
spotted skins of beasts, and most parti-colored feathers 
of fowls which that world afforded. To make his 

25 confinement more tolerable, she would carry him in 
the dusk of the evening, or by the favor of moon- 
light, to unfrequented groves and solitudes, and show 
him. where to lie down in safety, and sleep amidst 
the falls of waters, and melody of nightingales. Her 

30 part was to watch and hold him awake in her arms, 



154 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

for fear of her countrymen, and awake him on occa- 
sions to consult his safety. In this manner did the 
lovers pass away their time, till they had learned a 
language of their own, in which the voyager commu- 
nicated to his mistress how happy he should be to 5 
have her in his country, where she should be clothed 
in such silks as his waistcoat was made of, and be 
carried in houses drawn by horses, without being ex- 
posed to wind or weather. All this he promised her 
the enjoyment of, without such fears and alarms as lu 
they were there tormented with. In this tender corre- 
spondence these lovers lived for several months, when 
Yarico, instructed by her lover, discovered a vessel 
on the coast, to which she made signals; and in the 
night, with the utmost joy and satisfaction, accom-15 
panied him to a ship 's crew of his countrymen, bound 
for Barbadoes. When a vessel from the main arrives 
in that island, it seems the planters come down to the 
shore, where there is an immediate market of the 
Indians and other slaves, as with us of horses and 20 
oxen. 

To be short, Mr. Thomas Inkle, now coming into 
English territories, began seriously to reflect upon 
his loss of time, and to weigh with himself how many 
days' interest of his money he had lost during his 25 
stay with Yarico. This thought made the young man 
very pensive, and careful what account he should be 
able to give his friends of his voyage. Upon which 
considerations, the prudent and frugal young man sold 
Yarico to a Barbadian merchant. 30 



YAEICO AND INKLE 155 

I was so touched with this story (which I think 
should be always a counterpart to the Ephesian 
Matron), that I left the room with tears in my eyes; 
which a woman of Arietta's good sense, did, I am 
5 sure, take for greater applause than any compliments 
I could make her. 



XXI 

A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD 

[The Spectator, No. 7. — Addison. . Wednesday, March 8, 

1710-11.'] 

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, 
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides ? i 

— Horace. 

Going yesterday to dine with an old acquaintance, 
I had the misfortune to find his whole family very 
much dejected. Upon asking him the occasion of it, 
he told me that his wife had dreamt a very strange 
dream the night before, which they were afraid por-5 
tended some misfortune to themselves or to their 
children. At her coming into the room, I observed 
a settled melancholy in her countenance, which I 
should have been troubled for, had I not heard from 
whence it proceeded. We were no sooner sat down, lo 
but, after having looked upon me a little while, My 
dear, says she, turning to her husband, you may now 
see the stranger that was in the candle last night. 
Soon after this, as they began to talk of family affairs, 
a little boy at the lower end of the table told her, i5 

1 ' ' Can you make sport of portents, gipsy crones. 
Hobgoblins, dreams, raw head and bloody bones?" 

— John Conington, 
156 



A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD 157 

that he was to go into join-hand on Thursday. Thurs- 
day? says she, No, Child, if it please God, you shall 
not begin upon Childermas Day; tell your writing 
master that Friday will be soon enough. I was 
5 reflecting with myself on the oddness of her fancy, 
and wondering that anybody would establish it as a 
rule to lose a day in every week. In the midst of 
these my musings, she desired me to reach her a little 
salt upon the point of my knife, which I did in such 

10 a trepidation and hurry of obedience that I let it 
drop by the way; at which she immediately startled, 
and said it fell toward her. Upon this I looked 
very blank; and, observing the concern of the whole 
table, began to consider myself, with some confusion, 

15 as a person that had brought a disaster upon the 
family. The lady, however, recovering herself after 
a little space, said to her husband with a sigh, My 
dear, misfortunes never come single. My friend, I 
found, acted but an under part at his table, and 

20 being a man of more good nature than understanding, 
thinks himself obliged to fall in with all the passions 
and humors of his yoke-fellow : Do not you remember. 
Child, says she, that the pigeon-house fell the very 
afternoon that our careless wench spilt the salt upon 

25 the table ? Yes, says he, My dear, and the next post 
brought us an account of the battle of Almanza. The 
reader may guess at the figure I made, after having 
done all this mischief. I despatched my dinner as 
soon as I could, with my usual taciturnity; when, to 

so my utter confusion, the lady seeing me quitting my 



158 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

knife and fork, and laying them across one another 
upon my plate, desired me that I would hnmor her 
so far as to take them out of that figure, and place 
them side by side. What the absurdity was which 
I had committed I did not know, but I suppose there 5 
was some traditionary superstition in it; and there- 
fore, in obedience to the lady of the house, I disposed 
of my knife and fork in two parallel lines, which is 
the figure I shall always lay them in for the future, 
though I do not know any reason for it. lo 

It is not difficult for a man to see that a person has 
conceived an aversion to him. For my own part, I 
quickly found, by the lady's looks, that she regarded 
me as a very odd kind of fellow, with an unfortunate 
aspect : For which reason I took my leave immedi- 15 
ately after dinner, and withdrew to my own lodgings. 
Upon my return home, I fell into a profound con- 
templation on the evils that attend these superstitious 
follies of mankind ; how they subject us to imaginary 
afflictions, and additional sorrows, that do not prop- 20 
erly come within our lot. As if the natural calamities 
of life were not suificient for it, we turn the most 
indifferent circumstances into misfortunes, and suffer 
as much from trifling accidents as from real evils. I 
have known the shooting of a star spoil a night's 25 
rest; and have seen a man in love grow pale and 
lose his appetite upon the plucking of a merry- 
thought. A screech owl at midnight has alarmed a 
family more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice 
of a cricket hath struck more terror than the roaring 30 



A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD 159 

of a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable which 
may not appear dreadful to an imagination that is 
filled with omens and prognostics. A rusty nail, or a 
crooked pin, shoot up into prodigies. 
5 An old maid that is troubled with the vapors 
produces infinite disturbances of this kind among her 
friends and neighbors. I know a maiden aunt, of 
a great family, who is one of these antiquated sibyls, 
that forebodes and prophesies from one end of the year 

10 to the other. She is always seeing apparitions and 
hearing death watches; and was the other day almost 
frighted out of her wits by the great house dog that 
howled in the stable at a time when she lay ill of the 
toothache. Such an extravagant cast of mind engages 

15 multitudes of. people, not only in impertinent terrors, 
but in supernumerary duties of life ; and arises from 
that fear and ignorance which are natural to the soul 
of man. The horror with which we entertain the 
thoughts of death (or indeed of any future evil) and 

20 the uncertainty of its approach fill a melancholy mind 
with innumerable apprehensions and suspicions, and 
consequently dispose it to the observation of such 
groundless prodigies and predictions. For as it is the 
chief concern of wise men to retrench the evils of 

25 life hy the reasonings of philosophy ; it is the employ- 
ment of fools to multiply them by the sentiments of 
superstition. 

For my own part, I should be very much troubled 
were I endowed with this divining quality, though 

30 it should inform me truly of every thing that can 



160 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

befall me. I would not anticipate the relish of any 
happiness, nor feel the weight of any misery, before 
it actually arrives. 

I know but one way of fortifying my soul against 
these gloomy presages and terrors of mind, and that 5 
is by securing to myself the friendship and protection 
of that Being who disposes of events, and governs 
futurity: He sees, at one view, the whole thread of 
my existence, not only that part of it which I have 
already passed through, but that which runs forward lo 
into all the depths of eternity. When I lay me down 
to sleep, I recommend myself to his care; when I 
awake, I give myself up to his direction. Amidst all 
the evils that threaten me, I will look up to him for 
help, and question not but he will either avert them, is 
or turn them to my advantage. Though I know 
neither the time nor the manner of the death I am to 
die, I am not at all solicitous about it; because I 
am sure that he knows them both, and that he will 
not fail to comfort and support me under them. 20 

C 



XXII 

MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES 

[The Tatler, No, 119. — Addison. Thursday, January 12, 

1709-10.] 

In tenui labor.i 

— Virgil. 

Sheer Lane, January 11. 

I have lately applied myself with much satisfaction 
to the curious discoveries that have been made by the 
help of microscopes, as they are related by authors 
of our own and other nations. "There is a great deal 

5 of pleasure in prying into this world of wonders 
which nature has laid out of sight and seems indus- 
trious to conceal from us. Philosophy had ranged 
over all the visible creation and began to want objects 
for her inquiries, when the present age, by the in- 

lovention of glasses, opened a new and inexhaustible 
magazine of rarities, more wonderful and amazing 
than any of those which astonished our forefathers. 
I was yesterday amusing myself with speculations of 
this kind and reflecting upon myriads of animals that 

i A part of tlie following phrase: In tenui, lahor; at tenuis 
non gloria; ''labor on a mean subject, but the glory is not 
mean. ' ' 

161 



162 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

swim in those little seas of juices that are contained 
in the several vessels of a human body. While my 
mind was thus filled with that secret wonder and 
delight, I could not but look upon myself as in an 
act of devotion and lam very well pleased with the 5 
thought of the great heathen anatomist who calls his 
description of the parts of a human body, "A Hymn 
to the Supreme Being." The reading of the day 
produced in my imagination an agreeable morning's 
dream, if I may call it such; for I am still in doubt lo 
whether it passed in my sleeping or waking thoughts. 
However it was, I fancied that my good genius stood 
at my bed's head and entertained me with the follow- 
ing discourse ; for, upon my rising, it dwelt so 
strongl}^ upon me that I writ down the substance of i5 
it, if not the very words. 

"If," said he, "you can be so transported with 
those productions of nature which are discovered to 
you by those artificial eyes that are the works of 
human invention, how great will your surprise be, 20 
when you shall have it in your power to model your 
own eye as you please, and adapt it to the bulk of 
objects, which, with all these helps, are by infinite 
degrees too minute for your perception ! We who are 
unbodied spirits can sharpen our sight to what degree 25 
v^e think fit and make the least work of the creation 
distinct and visible. This gives us such ideas as cannot 
possibly enter into your present conceptions. There 
is not the least particle of matter which may not 
furnish one of us sufficient employment for a whole so 



MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES 153 

eternity. "We can still divide it and still open it and 
still discover new wonders of providence, as we look 
into the different texture of its parts, and meet with 
beds of vegetables, minerals and metallic mixtures and 
5 several kinds of animals that lie hid, and, as it were, 
lost in such an endless fund of matter. I find you 
are surprised at this discourse; but, as your reason 
tells yoa there are infinite parts in the smallest por- 
tion of matter, it will likewise convince you that there 

10 is as great a variety of secrets, and as much room for 
discoveries, in a particle no bigger than the point of a 
pin as in the globe of the whole earth. Your micro- 
scopes bring to sight shoals of living creaturC'S in a 
spoonful of vinegar; but we who can distinguish 

15 them in their different magnitudes see among them 
several huge leviathans that terrify the little fry of 
animals about them and take their pastime as in an 
ocean or the great deep." 

I could not but smile at this part of his relation 

20 and told him, ' ' I doubted not but he could give me 
the history of several invisible giants, accompanied 
with their respective dwarfs, in case that any of these 
little beings are of a human shape." 

''You may assure yourself," said he, "that we see 

25 in these little animals different natures, instincts, and 
modes of life, which correspond to what you observe 
in creatures of bigger dimensions. "We descry millions 
of species subsisted on a green leaf, which your glasses 
represent only in crowds and swarms. "What appears 

30 to your eye but as hair or down rising on the surface 



164 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

of it, we find to be woods and forests, inhabited by 
beasts of prey that are as dreadful in those their 
little haunts, as lions and tigers in the deserts of 
Lybia." 

I was much delighted with his discourse, and could 5 
not forbear telling him, 'that I should be wonderfully 
pleased to see a natural history of imperceptibles, 
containing a true account of such vegetables and 
animals as grow and live out of sight.' 

"Such disquisitions," answered he, "are veryio 
suitable to reasonable creatures; and, you may be 
sare, there are many curious spirits among us who 
employ themselves in such amusements. For, as our 
hands and all our senses may be formed to what 
degree of strength and delicacy we please, in theis 
same manner as our sight, we can make what experi- 
ments we are inclined to, how small soever the matter 
be in which we make them. I have been present at 
the dissection of a mite and have seen the skeleton 
of a flea. I have been shown a forest of numberless 20 
trees which has been picked out of an acorn. Your 
microscope can show you in it a complete oak in 
miniature; and could you suit all your organs as 
we do, you might pluck an acorn from this little oak, 
which contains another tree ; and so proceed from 25 
tree to tree, as long as you would think fit to continue 
your disquisitions. It is almost impossible," added 
he, "to talk of thinors so remote from common life 
and the ordinary notions which mankind receive from 
blunt and gross organs of sense, without appearing 3(r 



MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES 165 

extravagant and ridiculous. You have often seen a 
dog opened, to observe the circulation of the blood or 
make any other useful inquiry; and yet would be 
tempted to laugh if I should tell you that a circle 

5 of much greater philosophers than any of the Royal 
Society were present at the cutting up of one of those 
little animals v/hich we find in the blue of a plum; 
that it was tied down alive before them ; and that they 
observed the palpitations of the heart, the course of 

10 the blood, the working of the muscles and the con- 
vulsions in the several limbs, with great accuracy and 
improvement. ' ' 

"I must confess," said I, "for my own part, I go 
along with you in all your discoveries with great 

15 pleasure : but it is certain they are too fine for the 
gross of mankind, who are more struck with the de- 
scription of every thing that is great and bulky. 
Accordingly, we find the best judge of human nature 
setting forth his wisdom, not in the formation of these 

20 minute animals, though indeed no less wonderful than 
the other, but in that of the leviathan and behemoth, 
the horse, and the crocodile." 

"Your observation," said he, "is very just; and I 
must acknowledge, for my own part, that although 

25 it is with much delight that I see the traces of provi- 
dence in these instances, I still take greater pleasure 
in considering the works of the creation in their 
immensity than in their minuteness. For this reason, 
I rejoice when I strengthen my sight so as to make it 

30 pierce into the most remote spaces and take a view 



166 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

of those heavenly bodies which lie out of the reach 
of human eyes, though assisted by telescopes. What 
you look upon as one confused white in the milky way 
appears to me a long track of heavens, distinguished 
by stars that are ranged in proper figures and con- 5 
stellations. While you are admiring the sky in a 
starry .night, I am entertained with a variety of 
worlds and suns placed one above another and rising 
up to such an immense distance that no created eye 
can see an end of them." 10 

The latter part of his discourse flung me into such 
an astonishment that he had been silent some time 
before I took notice of it; when, on a sudden, I 
started up and drew my curtains, to look if any one 
was near me, but saw nobody, and cannot tell to this 15 
moment whether it was my good genius or a dream 
that left me. 



XXIII 

CONDEMNING THE UNFOETUNATE 

[The Spectator, No. 483. — Addison. Saturday, September 

13, 1712.1 

Nee deus intersit, nisi dignas vindice nodus 
Inciderit.i — Horace. 

We cannot be guilty of a greater act of oncharita- 
bleness than to interpret the afflictions which befall 
our neighbors as punishments and judgments. It 
aggravates the evil to him who suffers, when he looks 

5 upon himself as the mark of divine vengeance, and 
abates the compassion of those toward him who 
regard him in so dreadful a light. This humor of 
turning every misfortune into a judgment proceeds 
from wrong notions of religion, which, in its own 

10 nature, produces good will toward men, and puts the 
mildest construction upon every accident that befalls 
them. In this case, therefore, it is not religion that 
sours a man's temper, but it is his temper that sours 
his religion: people of gloomy, uncheerful imagina- 

15 tions, or of envious, malignant tempers, whatever kind 
of life they are engaged in, will discover their natural 

1 ' ' Let not a god come in save to untie 
Some knot that will liis presence justify." 

— Sir Theodore Martin. 
167 



168 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

tincture of mind in all their thoughts, words, and 
actions. As the finest wines have often the taste of 
the soil, so even the most religious thoughts often 
draw something that is particular from the constitu- 
tion of the mind in which they arise. "When folly 5 
or superstition strike in with this natural depravity 
of temper, it is not in the power even of religion 
itself to preserve the character of the person who is 
possessed with it from appearing highly absurd and' 
ridiculous. 10 

An old maiden gentlewoman, whom I shall conceal 
under the name of Nemesis, is the greatest discoverer 
of judgments that I have met with. She can tell you 
what sin it was that set such a man's house on fire, 
or blew down his barns. Talk to her of an unfortunate 15 
young lady that lost her beauty by the smallpox, she 
fetches a deep sigh, and tells you that when she had 
a fine face she was always looking on it in her glass. 
Tell her of a piece of good fortune that has befallen 
one of her acquaintance, and she wishes it may prosper 20 
with her; but her mother used one of her nieces very 
barbarously. Her usual remarks turn upon people 
who had great estates but never enjoyed them, by 
reason of some flaw in their own, or their father's 
behavior. She can give you the reason why such an 25 
one died childless: Why such an one was cut off in 
the flower of his youth: Why such an one was un- 
happy in her marriage : Wliy one broke his leg on 
such a particular spot of ground, and why another 
was killed with a back-sword rather than with anvso 



CONDEMNING THE UNFOETUNATE 169 

other kind of weapon. She has a crime for every 
misfortune that can befall any of her acquaintance, 
and when she hears of a robbery that has been made, 
or a murder that has been committed, enlarges more 

5 on the guilt of the suffering person than on that of 
the thief or the assassin. In short, she is so good a 
Christian that whatever happens to herself is a trial, 
and whatever happens to her neighbors is a 
judgment. 

10 The very description of this folly, in ordinary life, 
is sufficient to expose it ; but, when it appears in a 
pomp and dignity of style, it is very apt to amuse and 
terrify the mind of the reader. Herodotus and 
Plutarch very often apply their judgments as imper- 

istiiiently as the old woman I have before mentioned, 
though their manner of relating them makes the 
folly itself appear venerable. Indeed, most historians, 
as well Christian as pagan, have fallen into this idle 
superstition, and spoken of ill success, unforeseen dis- 

20 asters, and terrible events, as if they had been let 
into the secrets of providence, and made acquainted 
with that private conduct by which the world is gov- 
erned. One would think several of our own historians 
in particular had many revelations of this kind made 

25 to them. Our old English monks seldom let any of 
their kings depart in peace who had endeavored to 
diminish the power or wealth of which the ecclesiastics 
were in those times possessed, William the Con- 
queror's race generally found their judgments in the 

30 New Forest, where their father had pulled down 



170 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

churches and monasteries. In short, read one of the 
chronicles written by an author of this frame of 
mind, and yon would think you were reading an 
history of the kings of Israel or Judah, where the 
historians were actually inspired, and where, by as 
particular scheme of providence, the kings w^ere dis- 
tinguished by judgments or blessings, according as 
they promoted idolatry or the worship of the true 
God. 

I cannot but look back upon this manner of judging lo 
upon misfortunes, not only to be very uncharitable in 
regard to the person whom they befall, but very pre- 
sumptuous in regard to him who is supposed to inflict 
them. It is a strong argument for a state of retribu- 
tion hereafter that in this world virtuous persons are is 
very often unfortunate, and vicious persons pros- 
perous, which is wholly repugnant to the nature of 
a being who appears infinitely wise and good in all 
his works, unless we may suppose that such a promis- 
cuous and undistinguishing distribution of good and 20 
evil, which was necessary for carrying on the designs 
of providence in this life, will be rectified and made 
amends for in another. We are not therefore to expect 
that fire should fall from heaven in the ordinary 
course of providence; nor, when we see triumphant 25 
guilt or depressed virtue in particular persons, that 
omnipotence will make bare its holy arm in the defense 
of the one or punishment of the other. It is sufficient 
that there is a day set apart for the hearing and 
requiting of both according to their respective merits, so 



CONDEMNING THE UNFORTUNATE 171 

The folly of ascribing temporal judgments to any 
particular crimes may appear from several considera- 
tions. I shall only mention two: First, That gen- 
erally speaking, there is no calamity or affliction 

5 which is supposed to have happened as a judgment 
to a vicious man which does not sometimes happen 
to men of approved religion and virtue. "When 
Diagoras the atheist w^as on board one of the Athenian 
ships, there arose a very violent tempest ; upon which 

10 the mariners told him that it was a just judgment 
upon them for having taken so impious a man on 
board. Diagoras begged them to look upon the rest 
of the ships that were in the same distress, and asked 
them whether or no Diagoras was on board every 

15 vessel in the fleet. We are all involved in the same 
calamities, and subject to the same accidents; and 
when we see any one of the species under any par- 
ticular oppression, we should look upon it as arising 
from the common lot of human nature rather than 

20 from the guilt of the person who suffers. 

Another consideration that may check our pre- 
sumption in putting such a construction upon a mis- 
fortune is this, That it is impossible for us to know 
w^hat are calamities and what are blessings. How 

25 many accidents have passed for misfortunes which 
have turned to the welfare and prosperity of the 
persons in whose lot they have fallen? How m.any 
disappointments have, in their consequences, saved a 
man from ruin? If Ave could look into the effects of 

30 everything, we might be allow^ed to pronounce boldly 



172 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

■upon blessings and judgments ; but for a man to give 
his opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its 
beginnings, is an unjustifiable piece of rashness and 
folly. The story of Biton and Clitobus, which was in 
great reputation among the heathens, for we see its 
quoted by all the ancient authors, both Greek and 
Latin, who have written upon the immortality of soul, 
may teach us a caution in this matter. These two 
brothers, being the sons of a lady who was priestess 
to Juno, drew their mother's chariot to the temple atio 
the time of a great solemnity, the persons being 
absent who by their office were to have drawn her 
chariot on that occasion. The mother was so trans- 
ported with this instance of filial duty that she peti- 
tioned her goddess to bestow upon them the greatest is 
gift that could be given to men; upon which they 
were both cast into a deep sleep, and the next morning 
found dead in the temple. This was such an event 
as would have been construed into a judgment had 
it happened to the two brothers after an act of dis-20 
obedience, and would doubtless have been represented 
as such by any ancient historian who had given us 
an account of it. 



XXIV 

THE LION SPIES 

[The Guardian, No. 71. — Addison. Tuesday, June 2, 1713.1 

Quale portentum neque militaris 
Daunia in latis alit esculetis: 
Nee Jubae tellus general, leonum 
Arida nutrix.i 

— Horace. 

I question not but my country customers will be 
surprised to hear me complain that this town is, of 
late years, very much infested with lions; and will 
perhaps, look upon it as a strange piece of news when 

5 1 assure them that there are many of these beasts of 
prey who walk our streets in broad daylight, beating 
about from coffee house to coffee house, and seeking 
whom they may devour. 

To unriddle this paradox, I must acquaint my 

10 rural reader that we polite men of the town give the 
name of a lion to any one that is a great man's spy. 
And whereas I cannot discharge my office of Guardian 
without setting a mark on such a noxious animal, and 

1 ' '■ No beast of more portentous size, 
In the Hereinian forest lies; 
Nor fiercer in Numidia bred, 
With Carthage were in triumph led." 

— Boscommon. 
173 



174 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

cautioning my wards against him, I design this whole 
paper as an essay upon the political lion. 

It has cost me a great deal of time to discover the 
reason of this appellation, but after many disquisitions 
and conjectures on so obscure a subject, I find there 5 
are two accounts of it more satisfactory than the rest. 
In the republic of Venice, which has been always the 
mother of politics, there are near the Doge's palace 
several large figures of lions curiously wrought in 
marble, with mouths gaping in a most enormous man- u 
ner. Those who have a mind to give the state any 
private intelligence of what passes in the city put 
their hands into the mouth of one of these lions and 
convey into it a paper of such private informations 
as any way regard the interest or safety of the if 
commonwealth. By this means all the secrets of state 
come out of the lion's mouth. The informer is con- 
cealed ; it is the lion that tells every thing. In short, 
there is not a mismanagement in office, or a murmur 
in conversation, which the lion does not acquaint thezc 
government with. For this reason, say the learned, 
a spy is very properly distinguished by the name 
of lion. 

I must confess this etymology is plausible enough, 
and I did for some time acquiesce in it, till about a 25 
year or two ago I met with a little manuscript which 
sets this whole matter in a clear light. In the reign 
of Queen Elizabeth, says my author, the renowned 
Walsingham had many spies in his service, from whom 
the government received great advantage. The most so 



THE LION SPIES 175 

eminent among them was the statesman's barber, 
whose surname was Lion. This fellow had an ad- 
mirable knack of fishing ont the secrets of his cus- 
tomers, as they were under his hands. He would rub 
5 and lather a man's head until he had got out every 
thing that was in it. He had a certain snap in his 
fingers and a volubility in his tongue that would 
engage a man to talk with him whether he would or 
no. By this means he became an inexhaustible fund 

10 of private intelligence, and so signalized himself in 
the capacity of a spy that from his time a master-spy 
goes under the name of a lion. 

Walsingham had a most excellent penetration, and 
never attempted to turn any man into a lion whom 

15 he did not see highly qualified for it when he was 
in his human condition. Indeed the speculative men 
of those times say of him that he would now and then 
play them off, and expose them a little unmercifully; 
but that, in my opinion, seems only good policy, for 

20 otherwise they might set up for men again, w^ien 
they thought fit, and desert his service. But how- 
ever, though in that very corrupt age he made use 
of these animals, he had a great esteem for true men, 
and always exerted the highest generosity in offering 

25 them more, without asking terms of them, and doing 
more for them out of mere respect for their talents, 
though against him, than they could expect from any 
other minister whom they had served never so con- 
spicuously. This made Raleigh (who professed him- 

30 self his opponent) say one day to a friend, ''Pox 



176 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

take this Walsingham, he baffles everybody ; he won 't 
so much as let a man hate him in private." True it 
is, that by the wanderings, roarings, and Inrkings of 
his lions, he knew the way to every" man breathing, 
who had not a contempt for the world itself. He 5 
had lions rampant whom he nsed for the service of 
the church, and conchant who were to lie down for 
the queen. They were so much at command, that the 
couchant would act as the rampant, and the rampant I- 
as couchant, without being the least out of counte-i* 
nance, and all this within four-and-twenty hours. 
Walsingham had the ple.asantest life in the world; 
for, by the force of his power and intelligence, he 
saw men as they really were, and not as the world 
thought of them: all this was principally brought i 
about by feeding his lions well, or keeping them 
hungry, according to their different constitutions. 

Having given this short, but necessary account of 
this statesman and his barber, who, like the tailor in 
Shakespeare's Pyramus and Thisbe, was a man made 2 
as other men are, notwithstanding he was a nominal 
lion, I shall proceed to the description of this strange 
species of creatures. Ever since the wise Walsingham 
was secretary in this nation, our statesmen are said 
to have encouraged the breed among us, as very well 2 
knowing that a lion in our British arms is one of the 
supporters of the crown, and that it is impossible for 
a government, in which there are such a variety of 
factions and intrigues, to subsist without this neces- 
sary animal. 3! 



THE LION SPIES 177 

A lion, or master-spy, hath several jackals under 
him, who are his retailers in intelligence, and bring 
him in materials for his report; his chief haunt is a 
coffee house, and as his voice is exceeding strong, it 

5 aggravates the sound of every thing it repeats. 

As the lion generally thirsts after blood, and is of 
a fierce and cruel nature, there are no secrets which 
he hunts after with more delight than those that cut 
off heads, hang, draw, and quarter, or end in the 

10 ruin of the person who becomes his prey. If he gets 
the wind of any word or action that may do a man 
good, it is not for his purpose, he quits the chase and 
falls into a more agreeable scent. 

He discovers a wonderful sagacity in seeking after 

15 his prey. He couches and frisks about in a thousand 
sportful motions to draw it within his reach, and has 
a particular way of imitating the sound of the creature 
whom he would ensnare; an artifice to be met with 
in no beast of prey, except the hyena and the political 

20 lion. 

You seldom see a cluster of newsmongers without 
a lion in the midst of them. He never misses taking 
his stand within ear-shot of one of those little ambi- 
tious men, who set up for orators in places of public 

25 resort. If there is a whispering-hole, or any public- 
spirited corner in a coffee house, you never fail of 
seeing a lion couched upon his elbow in some part of 
the neighborhood. 

A lion is particularly addicted to the perusal of 

30 every loose paper that lies in his way. He appears 



178 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE i 

more than ordinary attentive to what he reads, while 
he listens to those who are about him. He takes np 
the Postman, and snuffs the candle, that he may hear 
the better by it. I have seen a lion pore upon a single 
paragraph in an old Gazette for two hours together, 5 
if his neighbors have been talking all that while. 

Plaving given a full description of this monster, for 
the benefit of such innocent persons as may fall into 
his walks, I shall apply a word or two to the lion 
himself, whom I would desire to consider tnat he is 10 
a creature hated both by God and man, and regarded 
with the utmost contempt even by such as make use 
of him. Hangmen and executioners are necessary in 
a state, and so may the animal I have been here 
mentioning ; but how despicable is the wretch that 15 
takes on him so vile an employment ! There is scarce 
a being that would not suffer^ hy a comparison with 
him, except that being only who acts the same kind 
of part and is both the tempter and accuser of 
mankind. 20 

N. B. ]Mr. Ironside has, within five wrecks last past, 
muzzled three lions, gorged five, and killed one. On 
Monday next the skin of the dead one will be hung 
up in terror em, at Button 's coffee house, over against 
Tom's, in Covent Garden. 25 

1 Probably a slip of the pen for ' ' would suffer. ' ' 



XXV 

IN A COFFEE HOUSE 

[The Spectator, No. 46. — Addison. Monday, April 23, nil.}, 

Non bene junctarum diseordia semina rerum.i 

— Ovid. 

When I want materials for this paper, it is my 
custom to go abroad in qnest of game : and when I 
meet any proper subject, I take the first opportunity 
of setting down an hint of it upon paper. At the 

5 same time I look into the letters of my correspondents, 
and if I find any thing suggested in them that may 
afford matter of speculation, I likewise enter a minute 
of it in my collection of materials. By this means I 
frequently carry about me a whole sheetful of hints, 

10 that would look like a rhapsody of nonsense to any- 
body but myself: There is nothing in them but 
obscurity and confusion, raving and inconsistency. 
In short, they are my speculations in the first prin- 
ciples, that (like the world in its chaos) are void of 

15 all light, distinction, and order. 

i^bout a week since, there happened to me a very 
odd accident, by reason of one of these my papers 
of minutes which I had accidentally dropped at 

1 ' ' The jarring seeds of ill-concerted things. ' ' 

179 



180 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Lloyd's coffee house, where the auctions are usually 
kept. Before I missed it, there, was a cluster of 
people who had found it, and were diverting them- 
selves with it at one end of the coffee house : It had 
raised so much laughter among them, before I had 5 
observed what they were about, that I had not the 
courage to own it. The boy of the coffee house, when 
ihey had done with it, carried it about in his hand, 
asking everj^body if they had dropped a written 
paper; but nobody challenging it, he was ordered by 10 
those merry gentlemen who had before perused it, to 
get up into the auction pulpit, and read it to the 
w:hole room, that if any one would own it, they might. 
The boy accordingly mounted the pulpit, and with a 
very audible voice read as follows: 15 

IMINUTES. 

Sir Roger de Coverley's country seat — ^Yes, for I 
hate long speeches — Query, if a good Christian may 
be a conjurer — Childermas Day, Saltseller, House Dog, 
Screech Owl, Cricket — Mr. Thomas Inkle of London, 
in the good Ship called the Achilles. Yarico — 20 
Aegrescitque medendo^ — Ghosts — The Lady's Library 
— Lion by trade a tailor — Dromedary called Bu- 
cephalus — Equipage the Lady's summura bonum — 
Charles Lillie to be taken notice of — Short face a 
relief to envy — Redundancies in the three professions 25 
■ — King Latinus a recruit — Jew devouring an ham 

1 And it grows worse under healing. 



IN A COFFEE HOUSE 181 

01 bacon — Westminster Abbey — Grand Cairo— Pro- 
crastination — April Fools — Blue Boars, Red Lions, 
Hogs in Armor — Enter a King and two Fiddlers solus 
—Admission into the Ugly Club— Beauty, how im- 

5 provable — Families of true and false Humor — The 
Parrot's Schoolmistress— Face half Pict half British 
—No Man to be an Hero of a Tragedy under six Foot 
—Club of Sighers— Letters from Flower Pots, Elbow 
Chairs, Tapestry Figures, Lion, Thunder— The Bell 

10 rings to the Puppet Show— Old A¥oman with a Beard 
Married to a Smock-faced Boy— My next Coat to be 
turned up with Blue— Fable of Tongs and Gridiron- 
Flower Dyers— The Soldier's Prayer— Thank ye for 
nothing, says the Galley-pot — Pactolus in Stockings, 

15 with Golden Clocks to them— Bamboos, Cudgels, 
Drum-sticks— Slip of my Landlady's eldest Daughter 
—The black Mare with a Star in her Forehead — The 
Barber's Pole — Will Honeycomb's Coat Pocket- 
Caesar's Behavior and my own in Parallel Circum- 

20 stances— Poem in Patchwork— NuUi gravis est per- 
cussus Achilles' — The Female Conventicler — The 
Ogle Master. 

The reading of this paper made the whole coffee 
house very merry; some of them concluded it was 

25 written by a madman, and others by somebody that 
had been taking notes out of the Spectator. One 
who had the appearance of a very substantial citizen 
told us, with several politic winks and nods, that he 
wished there was no more in the paper than what was 
1 ' ' The stricken Achilles bears heavily on no one. ' ' 



182 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

expressed in it: That, for his part, he looked upon 
the dromedary, the gridiron, and the barber's pole, 
to signify something more than what was usually 
meant by those w^ords ; and that he thought the coffee 
man could not do better than to carry the paper to 5 
one of the secretaries of state. He further added 
that he did not like the name of the outlandish man 
with the golden clock in his stockings. A young 
Oxford scholar, who chanced to be with his uncle 
at the coffee house, discovered to us who this Pactolus lo 
w^as; and by that means turned the whole scheme of 
this worthy citizen into ridicule. While they were 
making their several conjectures upon this innocent 
paper, I reached out my arm to the boy, as he was 
coming out of the pulpit, to give it me ; which he did i5 
accordingly. This drew the eyes of the whole com- 
pany upon me ; but after having cast a cursory glance 
over it, and shook my head twice or thrice at the 
reading of it, I twisted it into a kind of match, and lit 
my pipe with it. My profound silence, together with 20 
the steadiness of my countenance, and the gravity of 
my behavior during this whole transaction, raised a 
very loud laugh on all sides of me; but as I had 
escaped all suspicion of being the author, I was very 
well satisfied, and applying myself to my pipe and 25 
the Postman, took no further notice of anything that 
passed about me. 

My reader will find that I have already made use 
of above half the contents of the foregoing paper ; and 
-will easily suppose that those subjects which are yet so 



IN A COFFEE HOUSE 183 

iintouched were such provisions as I had made for his 
future entertainment. But as I have been unhickily 
prevented by this accident, I shall only give him the 
letters which relate to the two last hints. The first 

5 of them I should not have published, were I not in- 
formed that there is many an husband who suffers 
very much in his private affairs by the indiscreet zeal 
of such a partner as is hereafter mentioned ; to whom 
I may apply the barbarous inscription quoted by the 

10 Bishop of Salisbury in his Travels; Dum nimia pia 
est, facta est impia.^ 
''Sir, 
I am one of those unhappy men that are plagued 
with a gospel gossip, so common among dissenters 

15 (especially Friends). Lectures in the morning, 
church meetings at noon, and preparation sermons at 
night, take up so much of her time, 'tis very rare 
she knows what we have for dinner, unless when the 
preacher is to be at it. With him come a tribe, all 

20 brothers and sisters it seems ; while others, really such, 
are deemed no relations. If at any time I have her 
company alone, she is a mere sermon popgun, repeat- 
ing and discharging texts, proofs, and applications so 
perpetually, that however weary I may go to bed, the 

25 noise in my head will not let me sleep till toward 
morning. The misery of my case, and great numbers 
of such sufferers, plead your pity, and speedy relief ; 
otherwise must expect, in a little time, to be lectured, 

iBad Latin for ^^f one is too pious ('good* or 'relig- 
ious'), one becomes impious." 



184 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

preached, and prayed into want, unless the happiness 
of being sooner talked to death prevent it. I am, &c., 

Pt. G." 

The second letter, relating to the ogling master, 
runs thus : 

^'Mr. Spectator, 

I am an Irish gentleman, that have traveled many 
years for my improvement ; during which time I have 
accomplished m^'^self in the whole art of ogling, as 
it is at present practiced in all the polite nations of lo 
Europe. Being thus qualified, I intend by the advice 
of my friends, to set up for an ogling master. I teach 
the church ogle in the morning, and the playhouse - 
ogle by candle light. I have also brought over with 
rae a new flying ogle fit for the Eing ; which I teach i5 
in the dusk of the evening, or in any hour of the day 
by darkening ore of my windows. I have a manu- 
script by me called The Complete Ogler, which I 
shall be ready to show you upon any occasion: In 
the meantime, I beg you will publish the substance of 20 
this letter in an advertisement, and you will very 
much oblige. Yours, &e." C 



XXYI 

BEING NEGLIGENT AND BEING BUSY 
[The Spectator, No. S84.— Steele. Friday, January 25, 171S.] 

Postliabui tamen illorum mea seria ludo.^ 

— Virgil. 

An unaffected behavior is without question a very 
great charm; but under the notion of being uncon- 
strained and disengaged, people take upon them to be 
unconcerned in any duty of life. A general negli- 

5 gence is what they assume upon all occasions, and set 
up for an aversion to all manner of business and atten- 
tion. ' ' I am the carelessest creature in the world, " " I 
have certainly the worst memory of any man living, ' ' 
are frequent expressions in the mouth of a pretender 

10 of this sort. It is a professed maxim with these people 
never to think; there is something so solemn in 
reflection, they, forsooth, can never give themselves 
time for such a way of employing themselves. It 
happens often that this sort of man is heavy enough 

15 in his nature to be a good proficient in such matters 
as are attainable by industry ; but alas ! he has such 
an ardent desire to be what he is not, to be too volatile, 
to have the faults of a person of spirit, that he pro- 
fesses himself the most unfit man living for any 

20 manner of application. When this humor enters into 

1 ' ' However, I let their play take precedence of my work. ' ' — 
John Conington. 

185 



186 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

the head of a female, she generally professes sickness 
upon all occasions, and acts all things with an indis- 
posed air: she is offended, but her mind is too lazy 
to raise her to anger; therefore she lives only as 
actuated by a violent spleen and gentle scorn. She 5 
has hardly curiosity to listen to scandal of her 
acquaintance, and has never attention enough to hear 
them commended. This affectation in both sexes 
makes them vain of being useless, and take a certain 
pride in their insignificancy. lo 

Opposite to this folly is another no less unreason- 
able, and that is the impertinence of being always in 
a hurry. There are those who visit ladies, and beg 
pardon, afore they are well seated in their chairs, 
that they just called in, but are obliged to attend 15 
business of importance elsewhere the very next 
moment. Thus they run from place to place, pro- 
fessing that they are obliged to be stilP in another 
company than that which they are in. These persons 
who are just a-going somewhere else should never 20 
be detained; let all the world allow that business is 
to be minded, and their affairs will be at an end. 
Their vanity is to be importuned, and compliance with 
their multiplicity of affairs would effectually dispatch 
'em. The traveling ladies who have half the town to 25 
see in an afternoon may be pardoned for being in 
constant hurry ; but it is inexcusable in men to come 
where they have no business, to profess they absent 
themselves where they have. It has been remarked 

1 Always. 



BEING NEGLIGENT AND BEING BUSY 187 

by some nice observers and critics that there is noth- 
ing discovers the true temper of a person so much 
as his letters. I have by me two epistles, which are 
written by two people of the different humors above 
5 mentioned. It is wonderful that a man cannot observe 
upon himself when he sits down to write, but that 
he will gravely commit himself to paper the same man 
that he is in the freedom of conversation. I have 
hardly seen a line from any of these gentlemen but 

10 spoke them as absent from w^hat they were doing, as 
the}^ profess they are when they come into company: 
For the folly is that they have persuaded themselves 
they really are busy. Thus their whole time is spent 
in suspense of the present moment to the next, and 

15 then from the next to the succeeding, which to the 
end of life is to pass away with pretense to many 
things, and the execution of nothing. 
''Sir, 
The post is just going out, and I have many other 

20 letters of very great importance to write this evening, 
but I could not omit making my com.pliments to you 
for your civilities to me when I was last in town. 
It is my misfortune to be so full of business that I 
cannot tell you a thousand things v/hich I have to 

25 say to you. I must desire you to communicate the 
contents of this to no one living; but believe me to 
be, with the greatest fidelity. 
Sir, 
Your most obedient, humble servant, 

30 Stephen Courier." 



188 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

' ' Madam, 
I hate writing, of all things in the world ; however, 
though I have drunk the waters, and am told I ought 
not to use my eyes so much, I cannot forbear writing 
to you, to tell you I have been to the last degrees 
hipped since I saw you. How could you entertain 
such a thought as that I should hear of that silly 
fellow with patience? Take my word for it, there 
is nothing in it; and you may believe it when so 
lazy a creature as I am undergo the pains to assure lo 
you of it by taking pen, ink, and paper in my hand. 
Forgive this; you know I shall not often offend in 
this kind. 

I am very much 

Your servant, 15 

Bridget Eitherdown. 
The fellow is of your country; prithee send me 
word, however, whether he has so great an estate." 



XXVII 
A BUSY LIFE 

[TJie Spectator, No. 317. — Addison. Tuesday, March 4, 

1711-12.'] 

Fruges consumere nati.i 

— Horace. 

Augustus, a few moments before his death, asked 
his friends who stood about him if they thought he 
had acted his part well ; and upon receiving such an 
answer as was due to his extraordinary merit. Let 

5 me then, says he, go off the stage wdth your applause, 
using the expression with which the Roman actors 
made their exit at the conclusion of a dramatic piece. 
I could wish that men, while they are in health, would 
consider well the nature of the part they are engaged 

10 in, and what figure it will make in the minds of those 
they leave behind them : whether it was worth coming 
into the world for, whether it be suitable to a reason- 
able being; in short, whether it appears graceful in 
this life, or will turn to an advantage in the next. 

15 Let the sycophant, or buffoon, the satirist, or the 
good companion, consider with himself, when his body 
shall be laid in the grave, and his soul pass into 

i/'Born but to feed." — Sir Theodore Martin. 

189 



190 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

another state of existence, how much it will redound 
to his praise to have it said of him that no man in 
England eat better, that he had an admirable talent 
at turning his friends into ridicule, that nobody 
outdid him at an ill-natured jest, or that he never 5 
went to bed before he had dispatched his third bottle. 
These are, however, very common funeral orations, 
and eulogiums on deceased persons who have acted 
among mankind with some figure and reputation. 

But if we look into the bulk of our species, they are lo 
such as are not likely to be remembered a moment 
after their disappearance. They leave behind them 
no traces of their existence, but are forgotten as 
though they had never been. They are neither wanted 
by the poor, regretted by the rich, nor celebrated by 15 
the learned. They are neither missed in the common- 
wealth, nor lamented by private persons. Their 
actions are of no significancy to mankind, and might 
have been performed b}^ creatures of much less dig- 
nity than those who are distinguished by the faculty 20 
of reason. An eminent French author speaks some- 
where to the following purpose : I have often seen 
from my chamber window two noble creatures, both 
of them of an erect countenance, and endowed Avith 
reason. These two intellectual beings are employed, 25 
from morning to night, in rubbing tv/o smooth stones 
one upon another ; that is, as the vulgar phrase it, in 
polishing marble. 

My friend. Sir Andrew Freeport, as we were sit- 
ting in the Club last night, gave us an account of a so 



A BUSY LIFE 191 

sober citizen who died a few days since. This honest 
man, being of greater consequence in his own thoughts 
than in the eye of the w^orld, had for some years past 
kept a journal of his life. Sir Andrew showed us one 
5 week of it. Since the occurrences set down in it mark 
out such a road of action as that I have been speaking 
of, I shall present my reader with a faithful copy 
of it ; after having first informed him that the deceased 
person had in his youth been bred to trade, but find- 
10 ing himself not so well turned for business, he had 
for several years last past lived altogether upon a 
moderate annuity. 

Monday, Eight o'clock. , I put on my clothes and 
walked into the parlor. 
15 Nine o'clock, ditto. Tied my knee-strings, and 
Avashed my hands. 

Hours ten, eleven, and twelve. Smoked three pipes 
of Virginia. Read the Supplement and Daily Courant. 
Things go ill in the north. Mr. Nisby's opinion 
20 thereupon. 

One o'clock in the afternoon. Chid Ralph for 
mislaying my tobacco-box. 

Two o'clock. Sat down to dinner. Mem. Too many 
plums, and no suet. 
25 From three to four. Took my afternoon's nap. 

From four to six. Walked into the fields. A¥ind, 
S.S.E. 

From six to ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby 's opinion 
about the peace. 
30 Ten o'clock. Went to bed, slept sound. 



192 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Tuesday, Being Holiday, Eight o'clock. Rose as 
usual. 

Nine o'clock. Washed hands and face, shaved, put 
on my double soled shoes. 

Ten, eleven, twelve. Took a walk to Islington. 5 

One. Took a pot of IMother Cob's Mild. 

Between two and three. Returned, dined on a 
, knuckle of veal and bacon. Mem. Sprouts wanting. 

Three. Nap as usual. 

From four to six. Coffee house. Read the news. 10 
A dish of twist. Grand Vizier strangled. 

From six to ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby's account 
of the Great Turk. 

Ten. Dream of the Grand Vizier. Broken sleep. 

Wednesday, Eight o'clock. Tongue of my shoe- 15 
buckle broke. Hands, but not face. . 

Nine. Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem. To be 
allowed for the last leg of mutton. 

Ten, eleven. At the coffee house. More work in 
the north. Stranger in a black wig asked me how 20 
stocks went. 

From twelve to one. Walked in the fields. Wind 
to the south. 

From one to two. Smoked a pipe and a half. 

Two. Dined as usual. Stomach good. 25 

Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter-dish. 
Mem. Cook-maid in love, and grown careless. 

From four to six. At the coffee house. Advice 
from Smyrna, that the Grand Vizier was first of all 
strangled, and afterwards beheaded. so 



A BUSY LIFE 193 

Six o'clock in the evening. Was half an hour in 
the Club before anybody else came. Mr. Nisby of 
opinion that the Grand Vizier was not strangled the 
sixth instant. 
5 Ten at night. Went to bed. Slept without waking 
till nine next morning. 

Thursday, Nine o'clock. Stayed within till two 
o'clock for Sir Timothy, who did not bring me my 
annuity according to his promise. 
10 Two in the afternoon. Sat down to dinner. Loss 
of appetite. Small beer sour. Beef overcorned. 

Three. Could not take my nap. 

Four and five. Gave Ralph a box on the ear. 
Turned off my cookmaid. Sent a message to Sir 
15 Timothy. Mem. I did not go to the Club tonight. 
Went to bed at nine o'clock. 

Friday. Passed the morning in meditation upon 
Sir Timothy, who was with me a quarter before 
twelve. 
20 Twelve o'clock. Bought a new head to my cane, 
and a tongue to my buckle. Drank a glass of purl 
to recover appetite. 

Two and three. Dined, and slept well. 

From four to six. Went to the coffee house. Met 
25 Mr. Nisby there. Smoked several pipes. Mr. Nisby 
of opinion that laced coffee is bad for the head. 

Six o'clock. At the Club as steward. Sat late. 

Twelve o'clock. Went to bed, dreamt that I drank 
small beer with the Grand Vizier. 



194 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Saturday. Waked at eleven, walked in the fields. 
"Wind N.E. 

Twelve. Caught in a shower. 

One in the afternoon. Returned home, and dried 
myself. s 

Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me. First course 
marrow-bones. Second ox-cheek, with a bottle of 
Brook's and Hellier. 

Three o'clock. Overslept myself. 

Six. Went to the Club. Like to have fallen into a lo 
gutter. Grand Vizier certainly dead, etc. 

I question not but the reader will be surprised to 
find the above-mentioned journalist taking so much 
care of a life that was filled with such inconsiderable 
actions and received so very small improvements ; and 15 
yet, if we look into the behavior of many whom we 
daily converse with, we shall find that most of their 
hours are taken up in those three important articles 
of eating, drinking, and sleeping. I do not suppose 
that a man loses his time, who is not engaged in public 20 
affairs, or in an illustrious course of action. On the 
contrary, I believe our hours may very often be more 
profitably laid out in such transactions as make no 
figure in the world than in such as are apt to draw 
upon them the attention of mankind. One may be- 25 
come wiser and better by several methods of employing 
one's self in secrecy and silence, and do what is 
laudable without noise or ostentation. I would, how- 
ever, recommend to every one of my readers the 
keeping a journal of their lives for one week, and so 



A BUSY LIFE 195 

setting down punctually their whole series of em- 
ployments during that space of time. This kind of 
self-examination would give them a true state of them- 
selves, and incline them to consider seriously what 
5 they are about. One day would rectify the omissions 
of another, and make a man weigh all those indifferent 
actions, which, though they are easily forgotten, must 
certainly be accounted for. L 



XXYIII 

TOM D'UEFEY 

[The Guardian, No. 67. — Addison. Thursday, May 28, 1713.] 

ne forte pudori 



Sit tibi musa lyrae solers, et cantor Apollo. i 

— Horace. 

It has been remarked by curious observers that 
poets are generally long-lived, and run beyond the 
usual age of man, if not cut off by some accident or 
excess, as Anacreon, in the midst of a very merry old 
age, was choked with a grape-stone. The same 5 
redundancy of spirits that produces the poetical flame 
keeps up the vital warmth, and administers uncommon 
fuel to life. I question not but several instances will 
occur to my reader's memory, from Homer down to 
Mr. Dryden. I shall only take notice of two who 10 
have excelled in lyrics, the one an ancient, and the 
other a modern. The first gained an immortal repu- 
tation by celebrating several jockeys in the Olympic 
games, the last has signalized himself on the same 
occasion by the ode that begins with — ^'To horse, brave 15 
boys, to Newmarket, to horse." My reader will, by 
this time, know that the two poets I have mentioned, 
are Pindar and Mr. D 'Urf ey. The former of these is 

1 ' ' Blush not to patronize the Muse 's skill. ' ' 

196 



TOM D'UEFEY 197 

long since laid in his urn, after having, many years 
together, endeared himself to all Greece by his tuneful 
compositions. Our countryman is still living, and in a 
blooming old age, that still promises many musical 
5 productions ; for if I am not mistaken, our British 
swan will sing to the last. The best judges who have 
perused his last song on The Moderate Man do not 
discover any decay in his parts, but think it deserves 
a place amongst the finest of those works with which 
10 he obliged the world in his more early years. 

I am led into this subject by a visit which I lately 
received from my good old friend and contemporary. 
As we both flourished together in King Charles the 
Second 's reign, we diverted ourselves with the remem- 
15 brance of several particulars that passed in the world 
before the greatest part of my readers were born, and 
could not but smile to think how insensibly we were 
grown into a couple of venerable old gentlemen. Tom 
observed to me that, after having written more odes 
20 than Horace, and about four times as many comedies 
as Terence, he was reduced to great difficulties by 
the importunities of a set of men, who, of late years, 
had furnished him with the accommodations of life, 
and would not, as we say, be paid with a song. In 
25 order to extricate my old friend,. I immediately sent 
for the three directors of the playhouse, and desired 
them that they would, in their turn, do a good office 
for a man who, in Shakespeare's phrase, had often 
filled their mouths ; I mean with pleasantry, and pop- 
so ular conceits. They very generously listened to my 



198 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

proposal, and agreed to act The Plotting Sisters (a 
very taking play of my old friend's composing) on 
the fifteenth of the next month, for the benefit of the 
author. 

My kindness to the agreeable Mr. D'Urfey will be 5 
imperfect, if, after having engaged the players in his 
favor, I dQ not get the town to come into it. I must 
therefore heartily recommend to all the young ladies, 
my disciples, the case of my old friend, who has often 
made their grandmothers merry, and whose sonnets 10 
have perhaps lulled asleep many a present toast, when 
she lay in her cradle. 

I have already prevailed on my Lady Lizard to bb 
at the house in one of the front boxes, and design, if 
I am in town, to lead her in myself at the head of her is 
daughters. The gentleman I am speaking of has laid 
obligations on so many of his countrymen that I hope 
they will think this but a just return to the good 
service of a veteran poet. 

I myself remember King Charles the Second leaning 20 
on Tom D'Urfey 's shoulder more than once, and hum- 
ming over a song with him. It is certain that monarch 
was not a little supported by Joy to Great Ccesar, 
which gave the Whigs such a blow as they were not 
able to recover that whole reign. My friend after- 25 
wards attacked popery with the same success, having 
exposed Bellarmine and Porto-Carrero more than once 
in short satirical compositions, which have been in 
everybody's mouth. He has made use of Italian tunes 
and sonatas for promoting the protestant interest, and 30 



TOM D'UEFEY 199 

turned a considerable part of the pope's music against 
himself. In short, he has obliged the court with polit- 
ical sonnets, the country with dialogues and pastorals, 
the city with descriptions of a lord-mayor's feast, not 

5 to mention his little ode upon Stool-Ball, with many 
others of the like nature. 

Should the very individuals he has celebrated make 
their appearance together, they would be sufficient to 
fill the playhouse. Pretty Peg of Windsor, Gilian of 

10 Croydon, with Dolly and Molly, and Tommy and 
Johnny, with many others to be met with in the 
Musical Miscellanies, entitled. Pills to Purge Melan- 
cJioly, would make a good benefit night. 

As my friend, after the manner of the old lyrics, 

15 accompanies his works with his own voice, he has been 
the delight of the most polite companies and conver- 
sations, from the beginning of King Charles the Sec- 
ond's reign to our present times. Many an honest 
gentleman has got a reputation in his country, by 

20 pretending to have been in company with Tom 
D'Urfey. 

I might here mention several other merits in my 
friend ; as his enriching our language with a multitude 
of rhymes, and bringing words together that without 

25 his good offices would never have been acquainted 
with one another, so long as it had been a tongue. 
But I must not omit that my old friend angles for a 
trout the best of any man in England. May flies come 
in late this season, or I myself should, before now, 

30 have had a trout of his hooking. 



200 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

After what I have said and much more that I might 
say on this subject, I question not but the world will 
think that my old friend ought not to pass the remain- 
der of his life in a cage like a singing bird, but enjoy 
all that Pindaric liberty which is suitable to a man of 5 
his genius. He has made the world merry, and I hope 
they will make him easy so long as he stays among us. 
This I will take upon me to say: they cannot do a 
kindness to a more diverting companion, or a more 
cheerful, honest, and good-natured man. lo 



XXIX 

TEANSMIGEATION 

[The Spectator, No. 343. — Addison. Thursday, April 3, 1712.'\ 

Errat, et illine 
Hue venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus 
Spiritus: eque feris humana in corpora transit, 
Inque feras noster.i 

— Ovid. 

Will Honeycomb, who loves to show upon occasion 
all the little learning he has picked up, told us yester- 
day at the Club that he thought there might be a great 
deal said for the transmigration of souls, and that the 

5 eastern parts of the world believed in that doctrine to 
this day. "Sir Paul Rycaut," says he, "gives us an 
account of several well-disposed Mahometans that pur- 
chase the freedom of any little bird they see confined 
to a cage, and think they merit as much by it as we 

10 should do here by ransoming any of our countrymen 
from their captivity in Algiers. You must know," 
says Will, "the reason is, because they consider every 
animal as a brother or a sister in disguise, and there- 

1 ' ' Here and there th ' unbodied spirit flies. 
By time, or force, or sickness, dispossessed, 
And lodges where it lights, in man or beast. ' ' 

— John Dryden. 
201 



202 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

fore think themselves obliged to extend their char- 
ity to them, though under such mean circumstances. 
They'll tell you," says Will, "that the soul of a man, 
when he dies, immediately passes into the body of 
another man, or of some brute, which he resembled 5 
in his humor, or his fortune, when he was one of us. ' ' 

As I was wondering what this profusion of learning 
would end in. Will told us that Jack Freelove, who 
was a fellow of whim, made love to one of those ladies 
who throw away all their fondness on parrots, mon- 10 
keys, and lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her a visit one 
morning, he writ a Yery pretty epistle upon this hint. 
"'Jack," says he, "was conducted into the parlor, 
where he diverted himself for some time with her 
favorite monkey, Avhich was chained in one of the 15 
windows; till, at length, observing a pen and ink lie 
by him, he writ the following letter to his mistress, 
in the person of the monkey ; and upon her not coming 
down so soon as he expected, left it in the window; 
and went about his business. 20 

"The lady soon after, coming into the parlor, and 
seeing her monkey look upon a paper with great 
earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some 
doubt," says Will, "whether it was written by Jack 
or the monkey. 25 

" 'Madam, 

' ' ' Not having the gift of speech, I have a long time 
waited in vain for an opportunity of making myself 
known to you ; and having at present the conveniences 
of pen, ink, and paper by me, I gladly take the occa-30 



TRANSMIGRATION 203 

sion of giving you my history in writing, which I 
could not do by word of mouth. You must know. 
Madam, that about a thousand years ago I was an 
Indian brachman, and versed in all those mysterious 
6 secrets which your European philosopher, called 
Pythagoras, is said to have learned from our frater- 
nity. I had so ingratiated myself by my great skill 
in the occult sciences with a d^mon whom I used to 
converse with that he promised to grant me whatever 
10 1 should ask of him. I desired that my soul might 
never pass into the body of a brute creature ; but this 
he told me was not in his power to grant me. I then 
begged that into whatever creature I should chance 
to transmigrate, I might still retain my memory, and 
15 be conscious that I Avas the same person who lived in 
different animals. This he told me was within his 
power, and accordingly promised on the word of a 
daemon that he would grant m-e what I desired. From 
that time forth I lived so very unblamably that I w^as 
20 made president of a college of brachmans, an office 
which I discharged with grea't integrity till the day of 
my death. 

" 'I was then shuffled into another human body, and 
acted my part so very well in it that I became first 
25 minister to a prince who reigned upon the banks of 
the Ganges. I here lived in great honor for several 
years, but by degrees lost all the innocence of the 
brachman, being obliged to rifle and oppress the 
people to enrich my sovereign ; till, at length, I be- 
so came so odious that my master, to recover his credit 



204 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

with, his subjects, shot me through the heart with an 
arrow, as I was one day addressing myself to him at 
the head of his army. 

'' 'Upon my next remove, I found myself in the 
woods under the shape of the jackal, and soon listed 5 
myself in the service of a lion. I used to yelp near his 
den about midnight, which was his time of rousing 
and seeking after his prey. He always followed me in 
the rear, and when I had run down a fat buck, a wild 
goat, or an hare, after he had feasted very plentifully lo 
upon it himself, would now and then throw me a bone 
that was but half picked for my encouragement; but 
upon my being unsuccessful in two or three chases, he 
gave me such a confounded gripe in his anger that 
I died of it. 15 

' ' ' In next transmigration, I was again set upon two 
legs, and became an Indian tax-gatherer; but having 
been guilty of great extravagances, and being married 
to an expensive jade of a wife, I ran so cursedly in 
debt that I durst not show my head. I could no sooner 20 
step out of my house but I was arrested hj somebody 
or other that lay in wait for me. As I ventured abroad 
one night in the dusk of the evening, I was taken up 
and hurried into a dungeon, where I died a few 
months after. 25 

' ' ' My soul then entered into a flying-fish, and in that 
state led a most melancholy life for the space of six 
years. Several fishes of prey pursued me when I was 
in the water, and if I betook myself to my wings, it 
was ten to one but I had a flock of birds aiming at me. 30 



TRANSMIGEATION 205 

As I was one day flying amidst a fleet of English 
ships, I observed an huge seagull whetting his bill 
and hovering just over my head: Upon my dipping 
into the water to avoid him, I fell into the mouth of 
5 a monstrous shark that swallowed me down in an 
instant. 

'* 'I was some years afterwards, to my great sur- 
prise, an eminent banker in Lombard Street; and 
remembering how I had formerly suffered for want 

10 of money, became so very sordid and avaricious that 
the whole town cried shame of me. I was a miserable 
little old fellow to look upon, for I had in a manner 
starved myself, and was nothing but skin and bone 
when I died. 

15 ' ' ' I was afterwards very much troubled and amazed 
to find myself dwindled into an emmet. I was heartily 
concerned to make so insignificant a figure, and did 
not know but, some time or other, I might be reduced 
to a mite if I did not mend my manners. I therefore 

20 applied myself with great diligence to the offices that 
were allotted me, and was generally looked upon as 
the notablest ant in the whole molehill. I was at last 
picked up, as I was groaning under a burden, by an 
unlucky cock-sparrow that lived in the neighborhood, 

25 and had before made great depredations upon our 
commonwealth. 

" 'I then bettered my condition a little, and lived 
a whole summer in the shape of a bee ; but being tired 
with the painful and penurious life I had undergone 

30 in my two last transmigrations, I fell into the other 



206 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

extreme, and turned drone. As I one day headed a 
party to plunder an hive, we were received so warmly 
by the swarm which defended it that we were most 
of us left dead upon the spot. 

** 'I might tell you of many other transmigrations 5 
which I went through; how I was a town-rake, and 
afterwards did penance in a bay gelding for ten years ; 
as also how I was a tailor, a shrimp, and a tom-tit. 
In the last of these my shapes, I was shot, in the 
Christmas holidays, by a young jackanapes, whoio 
would needs try his new gun upon me. 

" 'But I shall pass over these and several other 
stages of life, to remind you of the young beau who 
made love to you about six years since. You may 
remember, Madam, how he masked, and danced, andi5 
sung, and played a thousand tricks to gain you; and 
how he was at last carried off by a cold that he got 
under your window one night in a serenade. I was 
that unfortunate young fellow, whom you w^ere then so 
cruel to. Not long after my shifting that unlucky 20 
body, I found myself upon a hill in Ethiopia, where 
I lived in my present grotesque shape, till I was 
caught by a servant of the English factory, and sent 
over into Great Britain : I need not inform you how 
I came into your hands. You see, Madam, this is not 25 
the first time that you have had me in a chain ; I am, 
however, very happy in this my captivity, as you 
often bestow on me those kisses and caresses which I 
would have given the world for when I was a man. I 
hope this discovery of my person will not tend to my 30 



TEANSMIGEATION 207 

disadvantage, but that you will still continue your 
accustomed favors to 

'Your most devoted humble servant, 

Pugg/" 

'^ 'P. S. I would advise your little shock-dog to 
keep out of my w^ay ; for as I look upon him to be the 
most formidable of my rivals, I may chance one time or 
other to give him such a snap as he won't like.' " 

L 



XXX 

THE BEAU'S HEAD 

[The Spectator, No. 215, — Addison. Tuesday, January 15, 

1711-12.'] 

tribus Anticyris caput insanabile.i 

— Juvenal. 

\ * 

'■*■ 

I was yesterday engaged in an assembly of virtuosos, 
where one of them produced many curious observa- 
tions, which he had lately made in the anatomy of an 
human body. Another of the company communicated 
to us several wonderful discoveries, which he had also 5 
made on the same subject, by the help of very fine 
glasses. This gave birth to a great variety of uncom- 
mon remarks, and furnished discourse for the remain- 
ing part of the day. 

The different opinions which were started on this lo 
occasion presented to my imagination so many new 
ideas that, by mixing with those which were already 
there, they employed my fancy all the last night, and 
composed a very wild extravagant dream. 

I was invited, meth ought, to the dissection of a 15 

1 ' ' Their heads, which three Anticyras cannot heal. ' ' — 
Eorace : Ars Poetica, 300, erroneously attributed by Addison to 
Juvenal. Translated by Ben Jonson. 

208 



THE BEAU'S HEAD 20& 

beau's head, and of a coquette's heart, which were 
both of them laid on a table before us. An imaginary 
operator opened the first with a great deal of nicety, 
which, upon a cursory and superficial view, appeared 
5 like the head of another man ; but, upon applying our 
glasses to it, we made a very odd discover}^, namely, 
that what we looked upon as brains, were not such in 
reality, but an heap of strange materials wound up 
in that shape and texture, and packed together with 

10 wonderful art in the several cavities of the skull. For, 
as Homer tells us that the blood of the gods is not 
real blood, but only something like it ; so we found that 
the brain of a beau is not real brain but only some- 
thing like it. 

15 The pineal gland, which many of our modern phi- 
losophers suppose to be the seat of the soul, smelt 
very strong of essence and orange-flower water, and 
was encompassed with a kind of horny substance, cut 
into a thousand little faces or mirrors, which were 

20 imperceptible to the naked eye; insomuch that the 
soul, if there had been any here, must have been 
always taken up in contemplating her own beauties. 
We observed a large antrum or cavity in the sinci- 
put, that was filled with ribbons, lace, and embroidery, 

25 wrought together in a most curious piece of network, 
the parts of which were likewise imperceptible to the 
naked eye. Another of these antrums or cavities was 
stuffed with invisible billets-doux, love-letters, pricked 
dances, and other trumpery of the same nature. In 

30 another we found a kind of powder, which set the 



210 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

whole company a sneezing, and by the scent discovered 
itself to be right Spanish. The several other cells 
were stored with commodities of the same kind, of 
wiiich it would be tedious to give the reader an exact 
inventory. 5 

There was a large cavity on each side of the head, 
which I must not omit. That on the right side was 
filled with fictions, flatteries, and falsehoods, vows, 
promises, and protestations; that on the left with 
oaths and imprecations. There issued out a duct from loj 
each of these cells, which ran into the root of the 
tongue, where both joined together, and passed for- 
ward in one common duct to the tip of it. We discov- 
ered several little roads or canals running from the 
ear into the brain, and took particular care to trace is 
them out through their several passages. One of them 
extended itself to a bundle of sonnets and little musical 
instruments. Others ended in several bladders which 
were filled either with wind or froth. But the large 
canal entered into a great cavity of the skull, from 20 
whence there went another canal into the tongue. This 
great cavity was filled with a kind of spongy sub- 
stance, which the French anatomists call galimatias, 
and the English nonsense. 

The skins of the forehead were extremely tough and 25 
thick, and, what very much surprised us, had not in 
them Siny single blood-vessel that we were able to dis- 
cover, either with or without our glasses ; from whence 
we concluded that the party when alive must have 
been entirely deprived of the faculty of blushing. 30 



THE BEAU'S HEAD 211 

The OS eribriforme was exceedingly stuffed, and in 
some places damaged with snuff. "We could not but 

1 take notice in particular of that small muscle which 
is not often discovered in dissections, and draws the 
5 nose upwards, when it expresses the contempt which 
the owner of it has, upon seeing anything he does not 
like, or hearing anything he does not understand. I 
need not tell my learned reader, this is that muscle 
which performs the motion so often mentioned by the 

10 Latin poets, when they talk of a man's cocking his 
nose, or playing the rhinoceros. 

"We did not find anything very remarkable in the 
eye, saving only that the musculi amatorii, or as we 
may translate it into English, the ogling muscles, were 

15 very much worn and decayed with use; whereas on 
the contrary, the elevator or the muscle which turns 
the eye toward heaven did not appear to have been 
used at all. 

I have only mentioned in this dissection such new 

20 discoveries as we were able to make, and have not 
taken any notice of those parts which are to be met 
with in common heads. As for the skull, the face, and 
indeed the whole outward shape and figure of the 
head, we could not discover any difference from what 

25 we observe in the heads of other men. We were 
informed that the person to whom this head belonged, 
had passed for a man above five and thirty years; 
during which time he eat and drank like other people^ 
dressed well, talked loud, laughed frequently, and on 

30 particular occasions had acquitted himself tolerably 



212 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

at a ball or an assembly, to which one of the company 
added that a certain knot of ladies took him for a 
wit. He was cut off in the flower of his age, by the 
blow of a paving shovel, having been surprised by an 
eminent citizen, as he was tendering some civilities to 5 
his wife. 

When we had thoroughly examined this head with 
all its apartments, and its several kinds of furniture, 
we put up the brain, such as it was, into its proper 
place, and laid it aside under a broad piece of scarlet lo 
cloth, in order to be prepared, and kept in a great 
repository of dissections, our operator telling us that 
the preparation would not be so difficult as that of 
another brain, for that he had observed several of the 
little pipes and tubes which ran through the brain is 
were already filled with a kind of mercurial substance, 
which he looked upon to be true quicksilver. 

He applied himself in the next place to the coquette 's 
heart, which he likewise laid open with great dexter- 
ity. There occurred to us many particularities in this 20 
dissection; but, being unwilling to burden my read- 
er's memory too much, I shall reserve this subject for 
the speculation of another day. L 



XXXI 

THE COQUETTE'S HEAET 

[The Spectator, No. 281. — Addison. Tuesday, January 22, 

1711-12.] 

Pectoribus inhians spiraiitia consulit exta.i 

— Virgil. 

Having already given an account of the dissection 
of a bean's head, with the several discoveries made 
on that occasion, I shall here, according to my prom- 
ise, enter upon the dissection of a coquette's heart, 

5 and communicate to the public such particularities as 
we observed in that curious piece of anatomy, 

I should perhaps have waived this undertaking, had 
not I been put in mind of my promise by several of 
my unknown correspondents, who are very importu- 

lonate with me to make an example of the coquette, as 
I have already done of the beau. It is, therefore, in 
compliance with the request of friends that I have 
looked over the minutes of my former dream, in order 
to give the public an exact relation of it, which I shall 

15 enter upon without further preface. 

Our operator, before he engaged in this visionary 

1 ' ' And gazing greedily on the . . . breasts, consults the 
entrails, yet quivering with life." — John Conington. 

213 



214 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

dissection, told ns that there was nothing in his art 
more difficult than to lay open the heart of a coquette, 
hy reason of the many labyrinths and recesses which 
are to be found in it, and which do not appear in the 
heart of any other animal. 5 

He desired us first of all to observe the pericardium, 
or outward case of the heart, which we did very atten- 
tively; and by the help of our glasses discerned in it 
millions of little scars, which seemed to have been 
occasioned by the points of innumerable darts and ic 
arrows, that from time to time had glanced upon the 
outward coat ; though we could not discover the small- 
est orifice by which any of them had entered and 
pierced the inward substance. 

Every smatterer in anatomy knows that this peri- 15 
cardium, or case of the heart, contains in it a thin 
reddish liquor, supposed to be bred from the vapors 
which exhale out of the heart, and being stopped here, 
are condensed into this watery substance. Upon exam- 
ining this liquor, we found that it had in it all the 20 
qualities of that spirit which is made use of in the 
thermometer to show the change of weather. 

Nor must I here omit an experiment one of the 
company assured us he himself had made with this 
liquor, which he found in great quantity about the 25 
heart of a coquette whom he had formerly dissected. 
He affirmed to us that he had actually enclosed it in 
a small tube made after the manner of a weather- 
glass ; but that, instead of acquainting him with the 
variations of the atmosphere, it showed him the qual-30 



THE COQUETTE'S HEART 215 

I ities of those persons who entered the room where it 

I stood. He affirmed also that it rose at the approach 
of a plume of feathers, an embroidered coat, or a pair 
of fringed gloves; and that it fell as soon as an ill- 
5 shaped periwig, a clumsy pair of shoes, or an unfash- 
ionable coat came into his house: Nay, he proceeded 
so far as to assure us that upon his laughing aloud, 
when he stood by it, the liquor mounted very sensibly, 
and immediately sunk again upon his looking serious. 

10 In short, he told us that he knew very well by this 
invention whenever he had a man of sense or a cox- 
comb in his room. 

Having cleared away the pericardium, or the case 
and liquor above mentioned, w^e came to the heart 

15 itself. The outvv^ard surface of it was extremely slip- 
pery, and the mucro, or point, so very cold withal 
that, upon endeavoring to take hold of it, it glided 
through the fingers like a smooth piece of ice. 

The fibers were turned and twisted in a more intri- 

20 cate and . perplexed manner than they are usually 
found in other hearts ; insomuch, that the whole heart 
was wound up together like a Gordian knot, and must 
have had very irregular and unequal motions, whilst 
it was employed in its vital function. 

25 One thing we thought very observable, namely, that 
upon examining all the vessels which came into it or 
issued out of it, we could not discover any communica- 
tion that it had with the tongue. 

We could not but take notice, likewise, that several 

30 of those little nerves in the heart which are affected by 



216 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

the sentiments of love, hatred, and other passions, did 
not descend to this before us from the brain, but from 
the muscles which lie about the eye. 

Upon weighing the heart in my hand, I found it to 
be extremely light, and consequently very hollow ; 5 
which I did not wonder at when, upon looking into 
the inside of it, I saw multitudes of cells and cavities 
running one within another, as our historians describe 
the apartments of Rosamond's Bower. Several of 
these little hollows were stuffed with innumerable 10 
sorts of trifles, which I shall forbear giving any par- 
ticular account of, and shall therefore only take notice 
of what lay first and uppermost, which upon our un- 
folding it and applying our microscope to it appeared 
to be a flame-colored hood. 15 

We were informed that the lady of this heart, when 
living, received the addresses of several who made love 
to her, and did not only give each of them encourage- 
ment, but made everyone she conversed with believe 
that she regarded him with an eye of kindness; for 20 
which reason we expected to have seen the impression 
of multitudes of faces among the several plates and 
foldings of the heart, but to our great surprise not a 
single print of this nature discovered itself till we 
came into the very core and center of it. We there 25 
observed a little figure, which, upon applying our 
glasses to it, appeared dressed in a very fantastic 
manner. The more I looked upon it, the more I 
thought I had seen the face before, but could not 
possibly recollect either the place or time; when at 30 



THE COQUETTE'S HEAET 217 

length one of the company, who had examined this 
figure more nicely than the rest, showed us plainly 
by the make of its face, and the several turns of its 
features, that the little idol that was thus lodged in 

5 the middle of the heart was the deceased beau, whose 
head I gave some account of in my last Tuesday's 
paper. 

As soon as w^e had finished our dissection, we 
resolved to make an experiment of the heart, not being 

10 able to determine among ourselves the nature of its 
substance, which differed in so many particulars from 
that of the heart in other females. Accordingly 
we laid it into a pan of burning coals, when we 
observed in it a certain salamandrine quality, that 

15 made it capable of living in the midst of fire and 

flame, without being consumed, or so much as singed. 

As we were admiring this strange phenomenon, and 

standing round the heart in a circle, it gave a most 

prodigious sigh, or rather crack, and dispersed all at 

20 once in smoke and vapor. This imaginary noise, 
w^hich methought was louder than the burst of a 
cannon, produced such a violent shake in my brain, 
that it dissipated the fumes of sleep, and left me in 
an instant broad awake. L 



XXXII 

THE FAN DRILL 

[The Spectator, No. lOS. — Addison. Wednesday, June 27 ^ 

1711.] 

Lnsus animo debent aliquando dari, 



Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.i 

— Phaedrus. 

1 do not know whether to call the following letter a 
satire upon coquettes or a representation of their sev- 
eral fantastical accomplishments, or what other title 
to give it; but as it is I shall communicate it to the 
public. It will sufficiently explain its own intentions. 5 
so that I shall give it my reader at length, without 
preface or postscript, 
''Mr. Spectator, 

"Women are armed wdth fans as men with swords, 
and sometimes do more execution with them : To the 10 
end therefore that ladies may be entire mistresses of 
the weapon which they bear, I have erected an acad- 
emy for the training up of young women in the exer- 
cise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs 
and motions that are now practiced at court. The 15 
ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a 

1 ' ' The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that it may 
return the better to thinking." 

218 



THE FAN DRILL 219 

day in my great hall, where they are instructed in 
, the use of their arms, and exercised by the following 
I words of command, 

^ Handle your Fans, 
5 Unfurl your FanS; 

Dirc::arge your Fans, 
GrouD*l your Fans, 
Re-', over your Fans, 
Flutter your Fans. 

10 By the right observation of these few plain words of 
command, a woman of a tolerable genius who will 
apply herself diligently to her exercise for the space 
of but one-half year shall be able to give her fan all 
the graces that can possibly enter into that little 

15 modish machine. 

' ' But to the end that my readers may form to them- 
selves a right notion of this exercise, I beg leave to 
explain it to them in all its parts. When my female 
regiment is drawn up in array, with every one her 

20 weapon in her hand, upon my giving the word to 
handle their fans, each of them shakes her fan at me 
with a smile, then gives her right hand woman a tap 
upon the shoulder, then presses her lips with the 
extremity of her fan, then lets her arms fall in an 

25 easy motion, and stands in a readiness to receive the 
next word of command. All this is done with a close 
. fan, and is generally learned in the first week. 

''The next motion is that of unfurling the fan, in 
which are comprehended several little flirts and vibra- 

sotiors, as also gradual and deliberate openings, with 



220 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

many voluntary fallings asunder in the fan itself, that 
are seldom learned under a month's practice. This 
part of the exercise pleases the spectators more than 
any other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite num- 
ber of cupids, garlands, altars, birds, beasts, rainbows, 5 
and the like agreeable figures, that display themselves 
to view, whilst every one in the regiment holds a pic- 
ture in her hand. 

"Upon my giving the word to discharge their fans, 
they give one general crack that may be heard at a 10 
considerable distance when the wind sits fair. This 
is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise; but 
I have several ladies with me, who at their first 
entrance could not give a pop loud enough to be 
heard at the further end of a room, who can now 15 
discharge a fan in such a manner that it shall make 
a report like a pocket pistol. I have likewise taken 
care (in order to hinder young women from letting 
off their fans in wrong places or unsuitable occasions) 
to show upon what subject the crack of a fan may 20 
come in properly : I have likewise invented a fan, with 
which a girl of sixteen, by the help of a little wind, 
which is enclosed about one of the largest sticks, can 
make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an 
ordinary fan. 25 

"When the fans are thus discharged, the word of 
command in course is to ground their fans. This 
teaches a lady to quit her fan gracefully when she 
throws it aside in order to take up a pack of cards, 
adjust a curl of hair, replace a falling pin, or apply 30 



THE FAN DEILL 221 

herself to any other matter of importance. This part 
of the exercise, as it only consists in tossing a fan with 
an air upon a long table (which stands by for that 
purpose), may be learned in two days' time as well 

5 as in a twelvemonth. 

' ' When my female regiment is thus disarmed, I gen- 
erally let them walk about the room for some time; 
when, on a sudden, (like ladies that look upon their 
watches after a long visit) they all of them hasten to 

10 their arms, catch them up in a hurry, and place them- 
selves in their proper stations upon my calling out, 
'Recover your fans.' This part of the exercise is not 
difficult, provided a woman applies her thoughts to it. 
' ' The fluttering of the fan is the last, and indeed the 

15 masterpiece, of the whole exercise ; but if a lady does 
not misspend her time, she may make herself mistress 
of it in three months. I generally lay aside the dog 
days and the hot time of the summer for the teaching 
this part of the exercise; for as soon as ever I pro- 

2onounce 'Flutter your fans,' the place is filled with 
so many zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very 
refreshing in that season of the year, though they 
might be dangerous to ladies of a tender constitution 
in any other. 

25 ' ' There is an infinite variety of motions to be made 
use of in the flutter of a fan: There is the angry 
flutter, the modest flutter, the timorous flutter, the 
confused flutter, the merry flutter, and the amorous 
flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any emo- 

sotion in the mind which does not produce a suitable 



222 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

agitation in the fan; insomuch, that if I only see 
the fan of a disciplined lady, I know very well 
"whether she laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have seen 
a fan so very angry that it would have been danger- 
ous for the absent lover who provoked it to have come 5 
within the wind of it ; and at other times so very lan- 
guishing that I have been glad for the lady's sake the 
lover was at a sufficient distance from it. I need not 
add that a fan is either a prude or coquette, accord- 
ing to the nature of the person who bears it. To con- 1 
elude my letter, I must acquaint you that I have from 
my own observations compiled a little treatise for the 
use of my scholars, entituled The Passions of the Fan; 
W'hich I will communicate to you, if you think it may 
be of use to the public. I shall have a general review 11 
on Thursday next, to which you shall be very welcome 
if you will honor it with your presence, 
''I am, &c. 

*'P. S. I teach young gentlemen the whole art of 
gallanting a fan. 2( 

"N. B. I have several little plain fans made for 
this use, to avoid expense." L # 



XXXIII 
LADIES' HOODS 

[The Spectator, No. 265. — Addison. Thursday, January 3, 

Dixerit e multis aliquis, quid virus in angues 
Adjicis? Et rabidae tradis ovile lupaefi 

—Ovid. 

One of the fathers, if I am rightly informed, lias 
defined a woman to be t,(pov ^iAokoct/xov," an animal that 
delights in finery. I have already treated of the sex 
in two or three papers, conformably to this definition, 
e and have in particular observed that in all ages they 
liave been more careful than the men to adorn that 
part of the head which we generally call the outside. 

This observation is so very notorious that when in 
ordinary discourse we say a man has a fine head, a 
1^ long head, or a good head, we express ourselves meta- 
phorically, and speak in relation to his understanding ; 
whereas when we say of a woman, she has a fine, a 
long, or a good head, we speak only in relation to her 
commode. 

i^'But some exclaim: Wiiat frenzy rules your mind? 
Would you increase the craft of womankind? 
Teach them new wiles and arts? As well you may 
Instruct a snake to bite or wolf to prey. ' ' 

— John Congreve. 
2 Literally, * ' a living creature that loves harmony or order. ' ' 

223 



224 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

It is observed among birds that nature has lavished 
all her ornaments upon the male, who very often 
appears in a most beautiful headdress : Whether it be 
a crest, a comb, a tuft of feathers, or a natural little 
plume, erected like a kind of pinnacle on the very top 5 
of the head. As nature on the contrary has poured 
out her charms in the greatest abundance upon the 
female part of our species, so they are very assiduous 
in bestowing upon themselves the finest garnitures of 
art. The peacock, in all his pride, does not display lo 
half the colors that appear in the garments of a Brit- 
ish lady when she is dressed either for a ball or a 
birthday. 

But to return to our female heads. The ladies have 
been for some time in a kind of molting season, with is 
regard to that part of their dress, having cast great 
quantities of ribbon, lace, and cambric, and in some 
measure reduced that part of the human figure to the 
beautiful globular form which is natural to it. We 
have for a great while expected what kind of orna-20 
ment would be substituted in the place of those anti- 
quated commodes. But our female projectors were 
all the last summer so taken up with the improvement 
of their petticoats that they had not time to attend 
to anything else ; but having at length sufficiently 25 
adorned their lower parts, they now begin to turn 
their thoughts upon the other extremity, as well 
remembering the old kitchen proverb, that if you 
light your fire at both ends, the middle will shift for 
itself. 30 



LADIES* HOODS 225 

I I am engaged in this speculation by a sight which 

^ I lately met with at the opera. As I was standing in 
the hinder part of the box, I took notice of a little 
cluster of women sitting together in the prettiest col- 

5 ored hoods that I ever saw. One of them was blue, 
another yellow, and another philomot ; the fourth 
was of a pink color, and the fifth of a pale green. I 
looked with as much pleasure upon this little parti- 
colored assembly as upon a bed of tulips, and did not 

10 know at first whether it might not be an embassy of 
Indian queens ; but upon my going about into the pit, 
and taking them in front, I was immediately unde- 
ceived, and saw so much beauty in every face, that 
I found them all to be English. Such eyes and lips, 

15 cheeks and foreheads, could be the growth of no other 
country. The complexion of their faces hindered me 
from observing any further the color of their hoods, 
though I could easily perceive by that unspeakable 
satisfaction which appeared in their looks that their 

20 own thoughts were wholly taken up on those pretty 
ornaments they wore upon their heads. 

I am informed that this fashion spreads daily, in- 
somuch that the Whig and Tory ladies begin already 
to hang out different colors, and to show their prin- 

25ciples in their headdress. Nay, if I may believe my 
friend Will Honeycomb, there is a certain old co- 
quette of his acquaintance, who intends to appear very 
suddenly in a rainbow hood, like the Iris in Dryden's 
Yirgil, not questioning but that among such variety 

30 of colors she shall have a charm for every heart. 



226 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

My friend Will, who very miicli values himself upon 
his great insights into gallantry, tells me that he can 
already guess at the humor a lady is in by her hood, 
as the courtiers of Morocco know the disposition of 
their present emperor by the color of the dress which 5 
he puts on. When Melesinda wraps her head in flame 
color, her heart is set upon execution. When she 
covers it with purple, I would not, says he, advise her 
lover to approach her ; but if she appears in white, it 
is peace, and he may hand her out of her box with ic 
safety. 

Will informs me, likewise, that these hoods may be 
used as signals. Why else, says he, does Cornelia 
always put on a black hood when her husband is gone 
into the country? is 

Such are my friend Honeycomb's dreams of gal- 
lantry. For my own part, I impute this diversity of 
colors in the hoods to the diversity of complexion in 
the faces of my pretty countrywomen. Ovid in his 
Art of Love has given some precepts as to this partic- 20 
nlar, though I find they are different from those 
which prevail among the moderns. He recommends 
a red striped silk to the pale complexion; white to 
the brown, and dark to the fair. On the contrar3^ 
my friend Will, who pretends to be a greater master 25 
in this art than Ovid, tells me that the palest fea- 
tures look the most agreeable in w^hite sarsenet; that 
a face which is overflushed appears to advantage in 
the deepest scarlet, and that the darkest complexion 
is not a little alleviated by a black hood. In short, he 30 



LADIES' HOODS 227 

is for losing the color of the face in that of the hood, 
as a fire burns dimly, and a candle goes half out in 
the light of the sun. This, says he, your Ovid him- 
self has hinted, where he treats of these matters, when 

5 he tells us that the blue water nymphs are dressed in 
sky-colored garments; and that Aurora, who always 
appears in the light of the rising sun, is robed in 
saffron. 

Whether these his observations are justly grounded 

10 1 cannot tell, but I have often known him, as we have 
stood together behind the ladies, praise or dispraise 
the complexion of a face which he never saw, from 
observing the color of her hood, and has been very 
seldom out in his guesses. 

15 As I have nothing more at heart than the honor 
and improvement of the fair sex, I cannot conclude 
this paper without an exhortation to the British ladies 
that they would excel the women of all other nations 
as much in virtue and good sense as they do in 

20 beauty; which they may certainly do, if they will be 
as industrious to cultivate their minds as they are to 
adorn their bodies. In the meanwhile, I shall recom- 
mend to their most serious consideration the saying 
of an old Greek poet, 

25 TvvaLKi Kocr/xos 6 Tp67ro<;, k' ov ^vaCa. 

1 Quoted from Menander and translated in the 271st number 
of The Spectator as: '' Manners and not dress are the orna- 
ments of a woman.'' 



XXXIV 

TOWN AND COUNTRY FASHIONS 

[The Spectator, No. 129. — Addison Saturday, July 28, 

1711.] 

Vertentem sese frustra sectabere canthum, 
Cum rota posterior curras et iu axe seeundo.i 

— Persius. 

Great masters in painting never care for drawing 
people in the fashion; as very well knowing that the 
headdress, or periwig, that now prevails, and gives a 
grace to their portraitures at present, will make a 
very odd figure, and perhaps look monstrous, in the 5 
eyes of posterity. For this reason, they often repre- 
sent an illustrious person in a Roman habit, or in 
some other dress that never varies. I could wish, for 
the sake of my country friends, that there was such a 
kind of everlasting drapery to be made use of by all lo 
who live at a certain distance from the town, and that 
they would agree upon such fashions as should never 
be liable to changes and innovations. For want of this 
standing dress, a man who takes a journey into the 

1 ' ' Thou, like the hindmost chariot wheels, art curst, 
Still to be near, but ne 'er to be the first. ' ' 

— John Dryden. 
228 



TOWN AND COUNTRY FASHIONS 229 

country is as much surprised as one who walks in a 

! gallery of old family pictures; and finds as great a 
variety of garbs and habits in the persons he con- 
verses with. Did they keep to one constant dress they 

5 would sometimes be in the fashion, which they never 
are, as matters are managed at present. If, instead 
of running after the mode, they would continue fixed 
in one certain habit, the mode would some time or 
other overtake them, as a clock that stands still is 

10 sure to point right once in twelve hours. In this case, 

I therefore, I would advise them, as a gentleman did his 
friend, who was hunting about the whole town after 
a rambling fellow, "If you follow him you will never 
find him, but if you plant yourself at the corner of 

15 any one street, I '11 engage it will not be long before 
you see him." 

I have already touched upon this subject, in a specu- 
lation which shows how cruelly the country are led 
astray in following the town ; and equipped in a ridic- 

2oulous habit, when they fancy themselves in the height 
of the mode. Since that speculation, I have received 
a letter (which I there hinted at) from a gentleman 
who is now in the western circuit. 
"Mr. Spectator: 

25 "Being a lawyer of the Middle Temple, a Cornish- 
man by birth, I generally ride the western circuit for 
my health, and, as I am not interrupted with clients, 
have leisure to make many observations that escape 
the notice of my fellow travelers. 

30 ' ' One of the most fashionable women I met with in 



230 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

all the circuit was my landlady at Stains, where I 
chanced to be on a holiday. Her commode was not 
half a foot high, and her petticoat within some yards 
of a modish circumference. In the same place, I ob- 
served a young fellow with a tolerable periwig, had 
it not been covered with a hat that was shaped in the 
Ramillie cock. As I proceeded in my journey I ob- 
served the petticoat grew scantier and scantier, and, 
about three-score miles from London, was so very un- 
fashionable that a woman might walk in it without i 
any manner of inconvenience. 

''Not far from Salisbury I took notice of a justice 
of the peace 's lady who was at least ten years behind- 
hand in her dress, but at the same time as fine as 
hands could make her. She was flounced and furbe-i 
lowed from head to foot; every ribbon was wrinkled, 
and every part of her garments in curl, so that she 
looked like one of those animals which in the country 
we call a Friesland hen. 

"Not many miles beyond this place, I was informed a 
that one of the last year's little muffs had by some 
means or other straggled into those parts, and that all 
the women of fashion were cutting their old muffs in 
two, or retrenching them according to the little model 
which was got among them. I cannot believe the re-2E 
port they have there, that it was sent down franked 
by a parliament man in a little packet; but probably 
by next winter this fashion will be at the height in 
the country, when it is quite out at London. 

' ' The greatest beau at our next county sessions was 30 



TOWN AND COUNTRY i^ASHIONS 231 

dressed in a most monstrous flaxen periwig that was 

made in King William's reign. The wearer of it 

goes, it seems, in his own hair when he is at home, and 

' lets his wig lie in buckle for a whole half year that 

5 he may put it on, upon occasion, to meet the judges 
in it. 

''I must not here omit an adventure which hap- 
pened to us in a country church upon the frontiers of 
Cornwall. As w^e were in the midst of the service, a 

Lolady, who is the chief woman of the place and had 

' passed the winter at London with her husband, en- 
tered the congregation in a little headdress and a 
hooped petticoat. The people, w^ho were wonderfully 
startled at such a sight, all of them rose up. Some 

15 stared at the prodigious bottom, and some at the little 
top of this strange dress. In the meantime, the lady 
of the manor filled the area of the church and walked 
up to her pew with an unspeakable satisfaction, 
amidst the whispers, conjectures, and astonishments 

20 of the whole congregation. 

"Upon our way from hence we saw a young fellow 
riding toward us full gallop, with a bob wig and a 
black silken bag tied to it. He stopped short at the 
coach, to ask us how far the judges were behind us. 

25 His stay was so very short that we had only time 
to observe his new silk waistcoat, which was unbut- 
toned in several places to let us see that he had a 
clean shirt on, which was ruffled down to his middle. 
''From this place, during our progress through the 

30 most western parts of the kingdom, we fancied our- 



232 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

selves in King Charles the Second's reign, the people 
having made very little variations in their dress since 
that time. The smartest of the country squires appear 
still in the Monmouth cock, and when they go 
a-wooing (whether they have any post in the militia 5 
or not) they generally put on a red coat. We were 
indeed very much surprised at the place we lay at 
last night, to meet with a gentleman that had 
accoutered himself in a nightcap wig, a coat with 
long pockets and slit sleeves, and a pair of shoes with lo 
high scollop tops; but we soon found by his con- 
versation that he was a person who laughed at the 
ignorance and rusticity of the country people, and 
was resolved to live and die in the mode. 

' ' Sir, if you think this account of my travels may 15 
be of any advantage to the public, I will next year 
trouble you with such occurrences as I shall meet 
wdth in other parts of England. For I am informed 
there are greater curiosities in the northern circuit 
than in the western; and that a fashion makes its 20 
progress much slower into Cumberland than into 
Cornwall. I have heard, in particular, that the Steen- 
kirk arrived but two months ago at Newcastle, and 
that there are several commodes in those parts which 
are worth taking a journey thither to see." C 25 



XXXV 

EAELY EISING 

[The Tatler, No. 263. — Steele. Thursday, December 14, 

J710.] 

Minima coiitentos nocte Britannos.i — Juvenal. 

From my oivn Apartment, December 13. 

An old friend of mine being lately come to town, 
I went to see liim on Tuesday last, about eight o'clock 
in the evening, with a design to sit with him an hour 
or two and talk over old stories; but upon inquiry 

5 after him, I found he was gone to bed. The next 
morning, as soon as I was up and dressed and had 
despatched a little business, I came again to my 
friend's house, about eleven o'clock, with a design to 
renew my visit ; but upon asking for him, his servant 

10 told me he was just sat down to dinner. In short, 
I found that my old-fashioned friend religiously ad- 
hered to the example of his forefathers and observed 
the same hours that had been kept in the family ever 
since the Conquest. 

15 It is very plain that the night was much longer 
formerly in this island than it is at present. By 

1 ''Britons, contented with the shortest night." ' 

233 



234 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

the night, I mean that portion of time which nature 
has thrown into darkness and which the wisdom of 
mankind had formerly dedicated to rest and silence. 
This used to begin at eight o 'clock in the evening and 
conclude at six in the morning. The curfew, or eight 5 
o'clock bell, was the signal throughout the nation for 
putting out their candles and going to bed. 

Our grandmothers, though they were wont to sit 
up the last in the family, were all of them fast asleep 
at the same hours that their daughters are bus}^ at 10 
crimp and basset. Modern statesmen are concerting 
schemes and engaged in the depth of politics at the 
time when their forefathers were laid down quietly 
to rest and had nothing in their heads but dreams. 
As we have thus thrown business and pleasure into 15 
the hours of rest and, by that means, made the natural 
night but half as long as it should be, we are forced 
to piece it out with a great part of the morning; so 
that near two-thirds of the nation lie fast asleep for 
several hours in broad daylight. This irregularity is 20 
grown so very fashionable at present that there is 
scarce a lady of quality in Great Britain that ever 
saw the sun rise. And, if the humor increases in 
proportion to what it has done of late years, it is not 
impossible but our children may hear the bellman 25 
going about the streets at nine o'clock in the morning 
and the watch making their rounds until eleven. 
This unaccountable disposition in mankind to continue 
awake in the night and sleep in the sunshine has made 
me inquire whether the same change of inclination so 



EARLY EISING 235 

has happened to any other animals ? For this reason, 
I desired a friend of mine in the country to let me 
know whether the lark rises as early as he did for- 
merly; and whether the cock begins to crow at his 
5 usual hour. My friend answered me 'that his poul- 
try are as regular as ever and that all the birds and 
beasts of his neighborhood keep the same hours that 
they have observed in the memory of man; and the 
same which, in all probability, they have kept for 

10 these five thousand years.' 

If you would see the innovations that have been 
made among us in this particular, you may only look 
into the hours of colleges, where they still dine at 
eleven and sup at six, which were doubtless the hours 

15 of the whole nation at the time when those places 
were founded. But, at present, the courts of justice 
are scarce opened in Westminster Hall at the time 
when William Rufus used to go to dinner in it. All 
business is driven forward. The landmarks of our 

20 fathers, if I may so call them, are removed and 
planted further up into the day; insomuch, that I 
am afraid our clergy will be obliged, if they expect 
full congregations, not to look any more upon ten 
o'clock in the morning as a canonical hour. In my 

25 own memory, the dinner has crept by degrees from 
twelve o'clock to three, and where it will fix nobody 
knows. 

I have sometimes thought to draw up a memorial 
in the behalf of Supper against Dinner, setting forth 

30 that the said Dinner has made several encroachments 



236 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

upon the said Supper and entered very far upon his 
frontiers; that he has banished him out of several 
families and in all has driven him from his head- 
quarters and forced him to make his retreat into the 
hours of midnight; and, in short, that he is now ins 
danger of being entirely confounded and lost in a 
breakfast. Those who have read Lucian, and seen 
the complaints of the letter T against S, upon account 
of many injuries and usurpations of the same nature, 
will not, I believe, think such a memorial forced andio 
unnatural. If dinner has been thus postponed, or, 
if you please, kept back from time to time, you may 
be sure that it has been in compliance with the other 
business of the day, and that supper, has still observed 
a proportionable distance. There is a venerable i5 
proverb, which we have all of us heard in our infancy, 
of "putting the children to bed, and laying the goose 
to the fire." This was one of the jocular sayings of 
our forefathers but may be properly used in the literal 
sense at present. Who would not wonder at this per- 20 
verted relish of those who are reckoned the most 
polite part of mankind, that prefer sea-coals and 
candles to the sun and exchange so many cheerful 
morning hours for the pleasures of midnight revels 
and debauches? If a man w^as only to consult his 25 
health, he would choose to live his whole time, if 
possible, in daylight; and to retire out of the world 
into silence and sleep, while the raw damps and 
unwholesome vapors fly abroad without a sun to dis- 
perse, moderate, or control them. For my own part, so 



EAELY EISING 237 

I value an hour in the morning as much as common 
libertines do an hour at midnight. When I find 
myself awakened into being and perceive my life 
renewed within me and at the same time see the whole 
5 face of nature recovered out of the dark uncom- 
fortable state in which it lay for several hours, my 
heart overflows with such secret sentiments of joy and 
gratitude as are a kind of implicit praise to the great 
Author of nature. The mind, in these early seasons 

10 of the day is so refreshed in all its faculties and borne 
up with such new supplies of animal spirits that she 
finds herself in a state of youth, especially when she 
is entertained with the breath of flowers, the melody 
of birds, the dews that hang upon the plants, and all 

15 those other sweets of nature that are peculiar to the 
morning. 

It is impossible for a man to have this relish of 
being, this exquisite taste of life, who does not come 
into the world before it is in all its noise and hurry ; 

20 who loses the rising of the sun, the still hours of the 
day, and immediately upon his first getting up plunges 
himself into the ordinary cares or follies of the world. 
I shall conclude this paper with Milton's inimitable 
description of Adam 's awakening his Eve in Paradise, 

25 which indeed would have been a place as little delight- 
ful as a barren heath, or desert to those who slept 
in it. The fondness of the posture in which Adam 
is represented and the softness of his whisper are 
passages in this divine poem that are above all com- 

30 mendation and rather to be admired than praised. 



238 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Now Morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime 
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, 
When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep 
Was airy light from pure digestion bred, 
And temperate vapors bland, which th' only sound 5 
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan. 
Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song 
Of birds on every bough; so much the more 
His wonder was to find unwakened Eve, 
With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, 10 

As through unquiet rest. He on his side 
Leaning half -raised, with looks of cordial love, 
Hung over her, enamored, and beheld 
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep. 
Shot forth peculiar graces. Then, with voice 15 

Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, 
Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: Awake, 
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, 
Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight. 
Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field 20 

Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring 
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove. 
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, 
Hovi Nature paints her colors, how the bee 
Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet. 25 

Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye 
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. 

O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 
My glory, my perfection, glad I see 
Thy face, and morn returned 1 30 

1 Those interested in seeing a different point of view from- 
Steele's on this subject should turn to Charles Lamb's ''Popu- 
lar Fallacies," Nos. 14 and 15. 



XXXVI 

A BED OF TULIPS . 

[The Tatlery No. 218. — Addison. Thursday, August ^i,^ 

nio.] ^^ 

Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes.i 

— Horace, 

From my own Apartment, August 30. 

I chanced to rise very early one particular morning 
this summer and took a walk into the country to 
divert myself among the fields and meadows, while 
the green was new and the flowers in their bloom. 

5 As at this season of the year every lane is a beautiful 
walk and every hedge full of nosegays, I lost myself 
with a great deal of pleasure among several thickets 
and bushes that w^ere filled with a great variety of 
birds and an agreeable confusion of notes, which 

10 formed the pleasantest scene in the world to one who 
had passed a whole winter in noise and smoke. The 
freshness of the dews that lay upon every thing about 
me, with the cool breath of the morning, which inspired 
the birds with so many delightful instincts, created 

1 ' ' The tribe of writers, to a man, admire 

The peaceful grove and from the town retire." 

— Francis. 
239 



240 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

in me the same kind of animal pleasure and made my 
heart overflow with such secret emotions of joy and 
satisfaction as are not to be described or accounted 
for. On this occasion, I could not but reflect upon a 
beautiful simile in Milton : 5 

As one who long in populous city pent, 

Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 

Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe 

Among the pleasant villages and farms 

Adjoin 'd, from each thing met conceives delight: 10 

The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 

Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound. 

Those who are conversant in the ^^Titings of polite 
authors receive an additional entertainment from the 
country as it revives in their memories those charming 15 
descriptions with which such authors do frequently 
abound. 

I was thinking of the foregoing beautiful simile 
in Milton, and applying it to myself, when I observed 
to the windward of me a black cloud falling to the 20 
earth in long trails of rain, which made me betake 
myself for shelter to a house I saw at a little distance 
from the place where I was walking. As I sat in the 
porch, I heard the voices of two or three persons, who 
seemed very earnest in discourse. My curiosity was 25 
raised when I heard the names of Alexander the 
Great and Artaxerxes; and as their talk seemed to 
run on ancient heroes, I concluded there could be no 
secret in it ; for which reason I thought I might very 
fairly listen to what they said. so 



A BED OF TULIPS 241 

After several parallels between great men, which 
appeared to me altogether groundless and chimerical, 
I was surprised to hear one say that he valued the 
Black Prince more than the Duke of Vendome. How 
a the Duke of Vendome should become a rival of the 
Black Prince, I could not conceive : and was the more 
startled when I heard a second affirm, with great 
vehemence, that if the Emperor of Germany was not 
going off, he should like him better than either of 

10 them. He added that, though the season was so 
changeable, the Duke of Marlborough was in blooming 
beauty. I was wondering to myself from whence they 
had received this odd intelligence ; especially when I 
heard them mention the names of several other great 

15 generals, as the Prince of Hesse, and the King of 
Sweden, who, they said, were both running away. 
To which they added, what I entirely agreed with 
them in, that the Crown of France was very weak, 
but that the Marshal Villars still kept his colors. The 

20 shower, which had driven them as well as myself into 
the house, was now over: and as they were passing 
by me into the garden, I asked them to let me be one 
of their company. 

The gentleman of the house told me, 'if I delighted 

25 in flowers, it would be worth my while ; for that he 
believed he could show me such a blow of tulips as 
was not to be matched in the whole country. * 

I accepted the offer, and immediately found that 
they had been talking in terms of gardening and 

30 that the kings and generals they had mentioned were 



242 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

only so many tulips, to which the gardeners, according 
to their nsual custom, had given such high titles and 
appellations of honor. 

I was very much pleased and astonished at the 
glorious show of these gay vegetables, that arose in 5 
great profusion on all the banks about us. Sometimes 
I considered them with the eye of an ordinary spec- 
tator, as so many beautiful objects varnished over 
with a natural gloss and stained with such a variety 
of colors as are not to be equaled in any artificial lo 
dyes or tinctures. Sometimes I considered every leaf 
as an elaborate piece of tissue, in which the threads 
and fibers were woven together into different config- 
urations, which gave a different coloring to the light 
as it glanced on the several parts of the surface. if> 
Sometimes I considered the whole bed of tulips, ac- 
cording to the notion of the greatest mathematician 
and philosopher that ever lived, ^ as a multitude of 
optic instruments, designed for the separating light 
into all those various colors of which it is composed. 20 

I was awakened out of these my philosophical specu- 
lations by observing the company often seemed to 
laugh at me. I accidentally praised a tulip as one 
of the finest I ever saw ; upon which they told me it 
was a common fool 's coat. Upon that, I praised a 25 
second, which it seems was but another kind of fool's 
coat. I had the same fate with two or three more; 
for which reason I desired the owner of the garden 
to let me know which were the finest of the flowers; 

1 Sir Tsnae NpTvfori. 



A BED OF TULIPS 243 

for that I was so unskillful in the art that I thought 
the most beautiful were the most valuable and that 
those which had the gayest colors were the most beau- 
tiful. The gentleman smiled at my ignorance. He 

5 seemed a very plain honest man and a person of 
good sense, had not his head been touched with that 
distemper which Hippocrates calls the TvXiTnrofjirjvLa, 
Tiilipomania; insomuch that he would talk very 
rationally on any subject in the world but a tulip. 

10 He told me, 'that he valued the bed of flowers 
which lay before us and was not above twenty yards 
in length and two in breadth more than he would the 
best hundred acres of land in England'; and added 
'that it would have been worth twice the money it 

15 is, if a foolish cookmaid of his had not almost ruined 
him the last winter by mistaking a handful of tulip 
roots for a heap of onions and by that means,' says 
he, "made me a dish of porridge that cost me above 
a thousand pounds sterling." He then showed me 

20 what he thought the finest of his tulips, which I found 
received all their value from their rarity and oddness, 
and put me in mind of your great fortunes, which 
are not always the greatest beauties. 

I have often looked upon it as a piece of happiness 

25 that I have never fallen into any of these fantastical 
tastes, nor esteemed any thing the more for its being 
uncommon or hard to be met with. For this reason, 
I look upon the whole country in springtime as a 
spacious garden and make as many visits to a spot 

30 of daisies, or a bank of violets, as a florist does to his 



244 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

borders or parterres. There is not a bush in blossom 
within a mile of me which I am not acquainted with, 
nor scarce a daffodil or cowslip that withers away in 
my neighborhood without my missing it/ I walked 
home in this temper of mind through several fields 5 
and meadows with an unspeakable pleasure, not with- 
out reflecting on the bounty of providence, which has 
made the most pleasing and beautiful objects the most 
ordinary and most common. 

1 Addison means, of course, ' ' without my seeing it. ' ' 



XXXYII 

AET AND NATUEE 

[The Spectator, No. 414. — Addison. Wednesday, June £5^ 

171£.] 

Alterius sic 



Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amice.i 

— Horace. 

If we consider the works of nature and art, as tliey 
are qualified to entertain the imagination, we shall 
find the last very defective in comparison of the 
former ; for though they may sometimes appear as 

5 beautiful or strange, they can have nothing in them 
of that vastness and immensity which afford so great 
an entertainment to the mind of the beholder. The 
one may be as polite and delicate as the other, but 
can never show herself so august and magnificent in 

10 the design. There is something more bold and mas- 
terly in the rough, careless strokes of nature than in 

1 The full passage of which this is a part, Sir Theodore 
Martin has translated as follows: 

''In all fine work, methinks, each plays a part — 
Art linked with genius, genius linked with art : 
Each doth the other's helping hand require. 
And to one end, they both, like friends, conspire." 

245 



246 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

the nice touches and embellishments of art. The 
beauties of the most stately garden or palace lie in 
a narrow compass, the imagination immediately runs 
them over, and requires something else to gratify her ; 
but, in the wide fields of nature, the sight wanders 5 
up and down without confinement, and is fed with 
an infinite variety of images, without any certain stint 
or number. For this reason we always find the poet 
in love with a country life, where nature appears in 
the greatest perfection, and furnishes out all those lo 
scenes that are most apt to delight the imagination. 

Scriptorum eliorus omnis amat nemus et fugit urbes.i 

— Horace. 

Hie secura quies, et nescia fallere vita, 
Dives opum variarum, hie latis otia fundis, -^5 

Speluncae, vivique laeus, hie frigida Tempe, 
Mugitusque bourn, mollesque sub arbore somni.2 

— Virgil. 

But though there are several of these wild scenes 
that are more delightful than any artificial shows ; 20 
yet we find the works of nature still more pleasant, 
the more they resemble those of art : For in this case 

1 See p. 239, footnote. 

2 Virgil's Georgics 11:467-70; translated by John Coning- 
ton as follows: 

' ' Still they have repose without care and a life where fraud 
and pretense are unknown. With stores of manifold wealth, 
they have the liberty of broad domains, grottoes and natural 
lakes, cool Tempe-like valleys and the lowing of oxen; and 
luxurious slumbers in the shade are there at their call. ' ' 



AET AND NATURE 247 

our pleasure rises from a double principle ; from the 
agreeableness of the objects to the eye, and from their 
similitude to other objects: We are pleased as well 
with comparing their beauties as with surveying them, 

5 and can represent them to our minds either as copies 
or originals. Hence it is that we take delight in a 
prospect which is well laid out, and diversified with 
fields and meadows, w^oods and rivers; in those acci- 
dental landscapes of trees, clouds, and cities that are 

10 sometimes found in the veins of marble; in the 
curious fretw^ork of rocks and grottoes; and, in a 
word, in anything that hath such a variety or regu- 
larity as may seem the effect of design in what we 
call the w^orks of chance. 

15 If the products of nature rise in value, according 
as they more or less resemble those of art, we may be 
sure that artificial works receive a greater advantage 
from their resemblance of such as are natural ; because 
here the similitude is not only pleasant, but the pat- 

20 tern more perfect. The prettiest landscape I ever 
saw was one drawn on the walls of a dark room, 
which stood opposite on one side to a navigable river, 
and on the other to a park. The experiment is very 
common in optics. Here you might discover the waves 

25 and fluctuations of the water in strong and proper 
colors, with the picture of a ship entering at one end, 
and sailing by degrees through the whole piece. On 
another there appeared the green shadows of trees, 
waving to and fro with the wind and herds of deer 

30 among them in miniature, leaping about upon the 



248 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

wall. I must confess, the novelty of such a sight may 
be one occasion of its pleasantness to the imagination, 
but certainly the chief reason is its near resemblance 
to nature, as it does not only, like other pictures, give 
the color and figure, but the motion of the things its 
represents. 

We have before observed that there is generally in 
nature something more grand and august than what 
we meet with in the curiosities of art. When, there- 
fore, w^e see this imitated in any measure, it gives usio 
a nobler and more exalted kind of pleasure than what 
we receive from the nicer and more accurate produc- 
tions of art. On this account our English gardens 
are n^t so entertaining to the fancy as those in France 
and Italy, where we see a large extent of ground is 
covered over wuth an agreeable mixture of garden and 
forest, which represent everywhere an artificial rude- 
ness, much more charming than that neatness and 
elegancy which we meet with in those of our own 
country. It might, indeed, be of ill consequence to 20 
the public, as well as unprofitable to private persons, 
to alienate so much ground from pasturage and the 
plow, in many parts of a country that is so well 
peopled, and cultivated to a far greater advantage. 
But why may not a whole estate be thrown into a kind 25 
of garden by frequent plantations, that may turn as 
much to the profit as the pleasure of the owner? A 
marsh overgrown with willows, or a mountain shaded 
with oaks, are not only more beautiful, but more 
beneficial, than when they lie bare and unadorned, so 



I 



AET AND NATUBE 249 



Fields of corn make a pleasant prospect, and if the 
walks were a little taken care of that lie between them, 
if the natural embroidery of the meadows were helped 
and improved by some small additions of art, and the 

5 several rows of hedges set off by trees and flowers that 
the soil w^as capable of receiving a man might make 
a pretty landscape of his own possessions. 

Writers who have given ns an account of China 
tell us the inhabitants of that country laugh at the 

10 plantations of our Europeans, which are laid out by 
the rule and line; because, they say, anyone may 
place trees in equal rows and uniform figures. They 
choose rather to show a genius in works of this nature, 
and therefore always conceal the art by w^hich they 

15 direct themselves. They have a word, it seems, in their 
language, by which they express the particular beauty 
of a plantation that thus strikes the imagination at 
first sight without discovering what it is that has so 
agreeable an effect. Our British gardeners, on the 

20 contrary, instead of humoring nature, love to deviate 
from it as much as possible. Our trees rise in cones, 
globes, and pyramids. We see the marks of the scis- 
sors upon every plant and bush. I do not know 
whether I am singular in my opinion, but, for my 

25 own part, I would rather look upon a tree in all its 
luxuriancy and diffusion of boughs and branches 
than when it is thus cut and trimmed into a mathe- 
matical figure ; and cannot but fancy that an orchard 
in flower looks infinitely more delightful than all the 

30 little labyrinths of the most finished parterre. But 



250 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

as onr great modelers of gardens have their maga- 
zines of plants to dispose of, it is very natural for 
them to tear up all the beautiful plantations of fruit 
trees, and contrive a plan that may most turn to their 
own profit, in taking off their evergreens, and the like 5 
movable plants, with which their shops are plentifully 
stocked. 



XXXVIII 

THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 

[The Spectator, No. 70, — Addison. jlonday, May 21, 1711.1 
Interdum vulgus rectum videt.i — Horace. 

When I traveled, I took a particular delight in 
hearing the songs and fables that are come from 
father to son and are most in vogue among the com- 
mon people of the countries through which I passed; 

5 for it is impossible that any thing should be univer- 
sally tasted and approved by a multitude, though they 
are only the rabble of a nation, which hath not in 
it some peculiar aptness to please and gratify the 
mind of man. Human nature is the same in all rea- 

10 sonable creatures ; and whatever falls in with it will 
meet with admirers amongst readers of all qualities 
and conditions. Moliere, as we are told by Monsieur 
Boileau, used to read all his comedies to an old 
woman who w^as his housekeeper, as she sat with him 

15 at her work by the chimney corner ; and could fore- 
tell the success of his play in the theater from the 
reception it met at his fireside. For he tells us the 

1 ' ' The popular judgment now and then is sound. ' ' 

— Sir Theodore Martin. 

251 



252 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

audience always followed the old woman and never 
failed to laugh in the same place. 

I know nothing which more shows the essential and 
inherent perfection of simplicity of thought, above 
that which I call the Gothic manner in writing, than i 
this, that the first pleases all kinds of palates, and 
the latter only such as have formed to themselves a 
wrong, artificial taste upon little fanciful authors and 
writers of epigram. Homer, Virgil, or Milton, so far 
as the language of their poems is understood, will] 
please a reader of plain common sense, who would 
neither relish nor comprehend an epigram of Martial 
or a poem of Cowley. So, on the contrary, an ordinary 
song or ballad that is the delight of the common people 
cannot fail to please all such readers as are not un- 1 
qualified for the entertainment by their affectation j 
or ignorance; and the reason is plain, because the 
same paintings of nature which recommend it to the 
most ordinary reader will appear beautiful to the 
most refined. 2( 

The old song of Chevy Chase is the favorite ballad 
of the common people of England; and Ben Jonson 
used to say he had rather have been the author of it 
than of all his works. Sir Philip Sidney in his Dis- 
course of Poetry speaks of it in the following words : 21 
"I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, 
that I found not my heart more moved than with a 
trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind crowder 
with no rougher voice than rude style; which being 
so evil appareled in the dust and cobweb of that so 



THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 253 

uncivil age, what would it work trimmed in the gor- 
geous eloquence of Pindar?" For my own part, I 
am so professed an admirer of this antiquated song 
that I shall give my reader a critic upon it without 

5 any further apology for so doing. 

The greatest modern critics have laid it down as a 

I rule that an heroic poem should be founded upon 
some important precept of morality, adapted to the 
constitution of the country in which the poet writes. 

LO Homer and Virgil have formed their plans in this 
view As Greece was a collection of many govern- 
ments who^ suffered very much among themselves and 
gave the Persian emperor, who was their common 
enemy, many advantages over them by their mutual 

15 jealousies and animosities, Homer, in order to estab- 
lish among them an union, which was so necessary 
for their safety, grounds his poem upon the discords 
of the several Grecian princes who were engaged in 
a confederacy against an Asiatic prince, and the sev- 

20 eral advantages which the enemy gained by such their 
discords. At the time the poem we are now treating 
of was written, the dissensions of the barons, who 
were then so many petty princes, ran very high, 
whether they quarreled among themselves, or with 

25 their neighbors, and produced unspeakable calamities 
to the country: The poet, to deter men from such 
unnatural contentions, describes a bloody battle and 
dreadful scene of death, occasioned by the mutual 
feuds which reigned in the families of an English 
1 An error for which. 



254 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

and^ Scotch nobleman. That he designed this for the 
instruction of his poem, we may learn fiom his four 
last lines, in which, after the example of the modern 
tragedians, he draws from it a precept for the benefit 
of his readers. 

God save the King, and bless the Land 

In Plenty, Joy, and Peace; 
And grant henceforth that foul Debate 

Twixt Noblemen may cease. 

The next point observed by the greatest heroic, 
poets hath been to celebrate persons and actions 
which do honor to their country : Thus Virgil 's hero 
was the founder of Rome, Homer 's a prince of Greece ; 
and for this reason Valerius Flaccus and Statins, who 
were both Romans, might be justly derided for having 
chosen the expedition of the Golden Fleece, and the 
Wars of Thebes, for the subjects of their epic 
writings. 

The poet before us has not only found out an hero 
in his own country, but raises the reputation of it by 2 
several beautiful incidents. The English are the first 
who take the field, and the last who quit it. The 
English bring only fifteen hundred to the battle, the 
Scotch, two thousand. The English keep the field 
with fifty-three: The Scotch retire with fifty-five: 2 
all the rest on each side being slain in battle. But 
the most remarkable circumstance of this kind, is the 
different manner in which the Scotch and English 

1 An ' ' a ' ' is needed here to make good sense. 



THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 255 

kings receive the news of this fight, and of the great 
men 's „deaths who commanded in it. 

This News was brought to Edinburgh, 
Where Scotland's King did reign, 

That brave Earl Douglas suddenly 
Was with an Arrow slain. 

heavy News, King James did say, 
Scotland can Witness be, 

1 have not any Captain more 
I Of such Account as he. 

Like tidings to King Henry came 

Within as short a Space, 
That Percy of Northumberland 

Was slain in Chevy Chase. 

Now God be with him, said our King, 

Sith 'twill no better be, 
I trust I have within my Eealm 

Five hundred as good as he. 

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say 

But I will Vengeance take, 
.And be revenged on them all 

For brave Lord Percy's Sake. 

This Vow full well the King perform 'd 

After on Humble-down, 
In one Day fifty Knights were slain 

With Lords of great Kenown. 

And of the rest of small Account 
Did many Thousands die, &c. 



256 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

At the same time that our poet shows a laudable par- 
tialty to his countrymen, he represents the Scots after 
a manner not unbecoming so bold and brave a people. 

Earl Douglas on a milk-white Steed, 

Most like a Baron bold, I 

Eode foremost of the Company, 
Whose Armor shone like Gold. 

His sentiments and actions are every way suitable 
to an hero. One of us two, says he, must die; I am 
an earl as well as yourself, so that you can have noio 
pretense for refusing the combat : However, says he, 
'tis pity, and indeed would be a sin, that so many 
innocent men should perish for our sakes; rather let 
you and I^ end our quarrel in single fight. 

E 'er thus I will out-braved be, 1^ 

One of us two shall die; 
I know thee well, an Earl thou art, 

Lord Percy, so am L 

But trust me, Percy, Pity it were, 

And great Offense, to kill 20 

Any of these our harmless Men, 

For they have done no 111. 

Let thou and I the Battle try, 

And set our Men aside; 
Accurst be he. Lord Percy said, * 25 

By whom this is deny'd. 

- Should be ''let you and me.'* 



THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 257 

When these brave men had distinguished them- 
selves in the battle and in single combat with each 
other, in the midst of a generous parley, full of heroic 
sentiments, the Scotch earl falls; and with his dying 
5 words encourages his men to revenge his death, repre- 
senting to them, as the most bitter circumstance of it, 
that his rival saw him fall. 

With that there came an Arrow keen 
Out of an English Bow, 
10 Which struck Earl Douglas to the Heart 

A deep and deadly blow. . •- 

Who never spoke more Words than these, 

Fight on my merry Men all. 
For why, ray Life is at an End, 
15 Lord Percy sees my fall. 

Merry men, in the language of those times, is no more 
than a cheerful w^ord for companions and fellow sol- 
diers. A passage in the eleventh book of Virgil's 
Mneids is very much to be admired, where Camilla 
20 in her last agonies, instead of weeping over the wound 
she had received, as one might have expected from a 
warrior of her sex, considers only (like the hero of 
whom we are now speaking) how the battle should be 
continued after her death. 

25 Turn sic expirans, &c. 

A gathering mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes; 
And from her cheeks the rosy color flies, 
Then, turns to her whom of her female train 
She trusted m'^st, and thus she speaks with pain. 



253 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

Acea, 'tis past! He swims before my sight, 

Inexorable death; and claims his right. 

Bear my last words to Turnus, fly with speed, 

And bid him timely to my charge succeed: 

Eepel the Trojans, and the town relieve: 5 

Farewell . 

Turnus did not die in so heroic a manner; though 
our poet seems to have had his eye upon Turnus 's 
speech in the last verse. 

Lord Percy sees my fall. 10 
Vicisti, et victum tendere palmas 



Ausonii videre .i 

Earl Percy's lamentation over his enemy is gener- 
ous, beautiful, and passionate ; I must only caution 
the reader not to let the simplicity of the style, which is 
one may well pardon in so old a poet, prejudice him 
against the greatness of the thought. 

Then, leaving Life, Earl Percy took 

The dead Man by the Hand, 
And said. Earl Douglas for thy Life 20 

Would I had lost my Land. 

O Christ! My very Heart doth bleed 

With Sorrow for thy Sake; 
For sure a more renowned Knight 

Mischance did never take. 25 

1 A plea by the conquered Turnus that his captive father 
"be treated humanely; translated by John Conington as follows: 
''You are conqueror; the Ausonians have seen my conquered 
iand.-' outstretched." 



THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 259 

That beautiful line Taking the dead man by the hand, 
will put the reader in mind of ^neas's behavior 
toward Lausus, whom he himself had slain as he 
came to the rescue of his aged father. 

5 At vero ut vultum vidit morientis, et ora, 

Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris, 
Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit, &e. 

The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead; 
He griev'd, he wept; then grasp 'd his hand, and said, 
10 Poor hapless Youth! What praises can be paid 
To worth so great ! 

I shall take another opportunity to consider the 
other parts of this old song. C 



XXXIX 

SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE 

[The Tatler, No. 165.— Addison. Saturday, April ^9, 1710.] 
From my own Apartment, April S8. 

It has always been my endeavor to distinguish 
between realities and appearances and to separate 
true merit from the pretense to it. As it shall ever 
be my study to make discoveries of this nature in 
human life and to settle the proper distinctions 5 
between the virtues and perfections of mankind and 
those false colors and resemblances of them that shine 
alike in the eyes of the vulgar, so I shall be more 
particularly careful to search into the various merits 
and pretenses of the learned world. This is the more 10 
necessary, because there seems to be a general com- 
bination among the pedants to extol one another's 
labors and cry up one another's parts; while men of 
sense, either, through that modesty which is natural 
to them, or the scorn they have for such trifling com- 15 
mendations, enjoy their stock of knowledge, like a 
hidden treasure, with satisfaction and silence. Pe- 
dantry indeed, in learning, is like hypocrisy in 
religion, a form of knowledge without the power of 
it ; that attracts the eyes of the common people ; 20 
breaks out in noise and show; and finds its reward, 

260 



SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE 261 

not from any inward pleasure tliat attends it, but 
from the praises and approbations which it receives 
from men. 

Of this shallow species there is not a more importu- 

snate, empty, and conceited animal than that which 
is generally known by the name of a Critic. This, in 
the common acceptation of the word, is one that, with- 
out entering into the sense and soul of an author, has 
a few general rules, which, like mechanical instru- 

loments, he applies to the works of every writer; and 
as they quadrate with them, pronounces the author 
perfect or defective. He is master of a certain set 
of words, as Unity, Style, Fire, Phlegm, Easy, Nat- 
ural, Turn, Sentiment, and the like; which he varies, 

15 compounds, divides, and throws together, in every 
part of his discourse, without any thought or mean- 
ing. The marks you may know him by are an ele- 
vated eye and a dogmatical brow, a positive voice and 
a contempt for everything that comes out, whether 

20 he has read it or not. He dwells altogether in gen- 
erals. He praises or dispraises in the lump. He 
shakes his head very frequently at the pedantry of 
universities and bursts into laughter when you men- 
tion an author that is not known at Will's. He hath 

25 formed his judgment upon Homer, Horace, and Yir- 
gil, not from their own works, but from those of Rapin 
and Bossu. He knows his own strength so well that 
he never dares praise any thing in which he has not 
a French author for his voucher. 

30 With these extraordinary^ talents and accomplish- 



262 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

ments, Sir Timothy Tittle puts men in vogue, or con- 
dei ms them to obscurity, and sits as judge of life and 
death upon every author that appears in public. It 
is impossible to represent the pangs, agonies, and 
convulsions which Sir Timothy expresses in every 5 
feature of his face and muscle of his body upon the 
reading a bad poet. 

About a week ago, I was engaged, at a friend's 
house of mine, in an agreeable conversation with his 
wife and daughters, when, in the height of our mirth, 10 
Sir Timothy, wdio makes love to my friend's eldest 
daughter, came in amongst us, puffing and blowing 
as if he had been very much out of breath. He imme- 
diately called for a chair and desired leave to sit 
down without any further ceremony. I asked him, 15 
where he had been? whether he was out of order? 
He only replied, that he was quite spent, and fell 
a cursing in soliloquy. I could hear him cry, "A 
wicked rogue — an execrable wretch — was there ever 
such a monster!" The young ladies upon this began 20 
to be affrighted, and asked, whether anyone had hurt 
him? He answered nothing, but still talked to him- 
self. "To lay the first scene," says he, "in St. James's 
Park and the last in Northamptonshire ! ' ' 

"Is that all? "said I. "Then I suppose you have 25 
been at the rehearsal of a play this morning." 

"Been!" says he; "I have been at Northampton, 
in the park, in a lady's bed-chamber, in a dining- 
room, everywhere; the rogue has led me such a 
dance " so 



SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE 263 

Though I could scarce forbear laughing at his dis- 
course, I told him I was glad it was no worse, and 
that he was only metaphorically weary. 

"In short, sir," says he, "the author has not 

5 observed a single unity in his whole play; the scene 
shifts in every dialogue; the villain has hurried me 
up and down at such a rate that I am tired off my 
legs." 

I could not but observe with some pleasure that 

10 the young lady whom he made love to conceived a 
very just aversion toward him, upon seeing him so 
very passionate in trifles. And as she had that nat- 
ural sense which makes her a better judge than a 
thousand critics, she began to rally him upon this 

15 foolish humor. "For my part," says she, "I never 
knew a play take that was written up to your rules, 
as you call them." 

"How, Madam!" says he. "Is that your opinion? 
I am sure you have a better taste. ' ' 

20 "'It is a pretty kind of magic," says she, "the 

• poets have, to transport an audience from place to 
place without the help of a coach and horses ; I could 
travel round the world at such a rate. It is such an 
entertainment as an enchantress finds when she fan- 

25 cies herself in a wood, or upon a mountain, at a feast, 
or a solemnity ; though at the same time she has never 
stirred out of her cottage." 

"Your simile. Madam," says Sir Timothy, "is by 
no means just." 

30 "Pray," says she, "let my similes pass without a 



264 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

criticism. I must confess," continued she (for I 
found she was resolved to exasperate him), "I 
laughed very heartily at the last new comedy which 
you found so much fault with." 

* ' But, Madam, ' ' says he, ' ' you ought not to have 5 
laughed ; and I defy anyone to show me a single rule 
that you could laugh by." 

''Ought not to laugh!" says she; *'pray who 
should hinder me?" 

' ' Madam, ' ' says he, ' ' there are such people in the 10 
world as Rapin, Dacier, and several others, that ought 
to have spoiled your mirth." 

''I have heard," says the young lady, ''that your 
great critics are always very bad poets : I fancy there 
is as much difference between the works of the one 15 
and the other as there is between the carriage of a 
dancing-master and a gentleman. I must confess," 
continued she, "I would not be troubled with so fine 
a judgment as yours is ; for I find you feel more vexa- 
tion in a bad comedy than I do in a deep tragedy. ' ' 20 

"Madam," says Sir Timothy, "that is not my 
fault; they should learn the art of writing." 

"For my part," says the young lady, "I should 
think the greatest art in your writers of comedies is 
to please." 25 

"To please!" says Sir Timothy; and immediately 
fell a-laughing. 

"Truly," says she, "that is my opinion." Upon 
this he composed his countenance, looked upon his 
watch, and took his leave. 30 



SIR TIMOTHY TITTLE 265 

I hear that Sir Timothy has not been at my friend 's 
house since this notable conference, to the great satis- 
faction of the young lady, who by this means has got 
rid of a very impertinent fcp. 

5 I must confess, I could not but observe with a 
great deal of surprise how this gentleman, by his 
ill-nature, folly, and affectation, had made himself 
capable of suffering so many imaginary pains and 
looking with such a senseless severity upon the com- 

lomon diversions of life. 



XL 

THE APPLAUDING TEUNK-MAKEE 

[The Spectator, No. 235. — Addison. Thursday, Novemler 

29, 1711.] 

Populares 

Vincentem strepitus .i 



— Horace. 

There is nothing which lies more within the prov- 
ince of a spectator than public shows and diversions ; 
and as among these there are none which can pretend 
to vie with those elegant entertainments that are 
exhibited in our theaters, I think it particularly 5 
incumbent on me to take notice of everything that is 
remarkable in such numerous and refined assemblies. 

It is observed that, of late years, there has been a 
certain person in the upper gallery of the playhouse, 
who, when he is pleased with anything that is acted 10 
upon the stage, expresses his approbation by a loud 
knock upon the benches or the wainscot, which may 
be heard over the whole theater. This person is com- 
monly known by the name of the Trunk-maker m the 
Upper Gallery. Whether it be that the blow he gives 15 
on these occasions resembles that which is often heard 
I'^And awe the mob perforce." 

— John Conington. 
266 



THE APPLAUDING TKUNK-MAKEE 267 

in the shops of such artisans, or that he was supposed 
to have been a real trunk-maker, who after the finish- 
ing of his day's work, used to unbend his mind at 
these public diversions with his hammer in his hand, 

5 I cannot certainly tell. There are some, I know, who 
have been foolish enough to imagine it is a spirit 
which haunts the upper gallery, and from time to 
time makes those strange noises; and the rather, 
because he is observed to be louder than ordinary 

10 every time the ghost of Hamlet appears. Others have 
reported that it is a dumb man, who has chosen this 
way of uttering himself, when he is transported with 
anything he sees or hears. Others will have it to be 
the playhouse thunderer, that exerts himself after 

15 this manner in the upper gallery, when he has nothing 
to do upon the roof. 

But having made it my business to get the best 
information I could in a matter of this moment, I 
find that the Trunk-maker, as he is commonly called, 

20 is a large black man, whom nobody knows. He gen- 
erally leans forward on a huge oaken plant with great 
attention to everything that passes upon the stage. 
He is never seen to smile; but upon hearing anything 
that pleases him, he takes up his staff with both hands, 

25 and lays it upon the next piece of timber that stands 
in his way with exceeding vehemence : After which 
he composes himself in his former posture, till such 
time as something new sets him again at work. 

It has been observed his blow is so well timed that 

30 the most judicious critic could never except against it. 



268 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

As soon as any shining thought is expressed in the 
poet, or any uncommon grace appears in the actor, 
he smites the bench or wainscot. If the audience does 
not concur with him, he smites a second time; and 
if the audience is not yet awaked, looks round him 5' 
with great wrath, and repeats the blow a third time, 
which never fails to produce the clap. He sometimes 
lets the audience begin the clap of themselves, and at 
the conclusion of their applause ratifies it with a 
single thwack. lo 

He is of so great use to the playhouse that it is 
said a former director of it, upon his not being able 
to pay his attendance by reason of sickness, kept one 
in pay to officiate for him till such, time as he recov- 
ered; but the person so employed, though he laidi5 
about him with incredible violence, did it in such 
wrong places, that the audience soon found out it was 
not their old friend the Trunk-maker. 

It has been remarked that he has not yet exerted * 
himself with vigor this season. He sometimes plies 20 
at the opera; and upon Nicolini's first appearance, 
was said to have demolished three benches in the fury 
of his applause. He has broken half a dozen oaken 
plants upon Doggett, and seldom goes away from a 
tragedy of Shakespeare without leaving tl© wainscot 25 
extremely shattered. 

The players do not only connive at this his obstrep- 
erous approbation, but very cheerfully repair at their 
own cost whatever damages he makes. They had once 
a thought of erecting a kind of wooden anvil for his so 



THE APPLAUDING TEUNK-MAKEE 269 

use, that should be made of a very sounding plank, in 
order to render his strokes more deep and mellow; 
but as this might not have been distinguished from 
the music of a kettledrum, the project was laid aside. 

5 In the meanwhile I cannot but take notice of the 
great use it is to an audience that a person should 
thus preside over their heads, like the director of a 
consort, in order to aw^aken their attention, and beat 
time to their applauses. Or to raise my simile, I 

10 have sometimes fancied the Trunk-maker in the Upper 
Gallery to be like Yirgil's Ruler of the Winds, seated 
upon the top of a mountain, who, when he struck his 
scepter upon the side of it, roused an hurricane, and 
set the whole cavern in an uproar. 

15 It is certain the Trunk-maker has saved many a 
good play, and brought many a graceful actor into 
reputation, who would not otherwise have been taken 
notice of. It is very visible, as the audience is not a 
little abashed, if they find themselves betrayed into a 

20 clap, when their friend in the upper gallery does not 
come into it; so the actors do not value themselves 
upon the clap, but regard it as a mere hrutum fulmen, 
or empty noise, when it has not the sound of the 
oaken plant in it. I know it has been given out by 

25 those who are enemies to the Trunk-maker that he 
has sometimes been bribed to be in the interest of a 
bad poet, or a vicious player; but this is a surmise, 
which has no foundation ; his strokes are always just, 
and his admonitions seasonable ; he does not deal about 

30 his blows at random, but always hits the right nail 



270 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

upon the head. The inexpressible force wherewith 
he lays them on sufficiently shows the evidence and 
strength of his conviction. His zeal for a good author 
is indeed outrageous, and breaks down every force and 
partition, every board and plank, that stands within 5 
the expression of his applause. 

As I do not care for terminating my thoughts in 
barren speculations, or in reports of pure matter of 
fact, without drawing something from them for the 
advantage of my countrymen, I shall take the liberty lo 
to make an humble proposal, that whenever the 
Trunk-maker shall depart this life, or whenever he 
shall have lost the spring of his arm by sickness, old 
age, infirmit}^, or the like, some able-bodied critic 
should be advanced to this post, and have a competent i5 
salary settled on him for life, to be furnished with 
bamboos for operas, crabtree-cudgels for comedies, 
and oaken plants for tragedy, at the public expense. 
And to the end that this place should always be 
disposed of according to merit, I would have none 20 
preferred to it who has not given convincing proofs, 
both of a sound judgment and a strong arm, and 
who could not, upon occasion, either knock down 
an ox or write a comment upon Horace's Art of 
Poetry. In short, I would have him a due composi- 25 
tion of Hercules and Apollo, and so rightly qualified 
for this important office that the Trunk-maker may 
not be missed by our posterity. C 



XLI 

NICOLINI AND THE LIONS 

[The Spectator, No. 13. — Addison. Thursday, March 15, 

1710-11.] 

Die mihi, si fias tu leo, qualis eris? i 

— Martial. 

There is nothing that of late years has afforded 
matter of greater amusement to the town than Signior 
Nicolini 's combat with a lion in the Haymarket, which 
has been very often exhibited to the general satisfac- 

5 tion of most of the nobility and gentry in the kingdom 
of Great Britain. Upon the first rumor of this 
intended combat, it w^as confidently affirmed, and is 
still believed by many in both galleries, that there 
would be a tame lion sent from the Tower every opera 

10 night, in order to be killed by Hydaspes ; this report, 
though altogether groundless, so universally prevailed 
in the upper regions of the playhouse that some of 
the most refined politicians in those parts of the audi- 
ence gave it out in whisper that the lion was a cousin- 

15 german of the tiger who made his appearance in King 
William's days, and that the stage would be supplied 
with lions at the public expense, during the whole 

1 i^^Were you a lion, how would you behave?'^ 

271 



272 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

session. Many likewise were the conjectures of the 
treatment which this lion was to meet with from the 
hands of Signior Nicolini ; some supposed that he was 
to subdue him in reciiativo, as Orpheus used to serve 
the wild beasts in his time, and afterwards to knocks 
him on the head; some fancied that the lion would 
not pretend to lay his paws upon the hero, by reason 
of the received opinion that a lion will not hurt a 
virgin: Several, who pretended to have seen the 
opera in Italy, had informed their friends that the i< 
lion was to act a part in High-Dutch, and roar twice 
or thrice to a thorough bass before he fell at the feet 
of Hydaspes. To clear up a matter that was so vari- 
ously reported, I have made it my business to examine 
whether this pretended lion is really the savage he ii 
appears to be, or only a counterfeit. 

But before I communicate my discoveries, I must 
acquaint the reader that upon my walking behind the 
scenes last winter, as I was thinking on something 
else, I accidentally jostled against a monstrous ani- 2c 
mal that extremely startled me and, upon my nearer 
survey of it, appeared to be a lion rampant. The lion, 
seeing me very much surprised, told me, in a gentle* 
voice that I might come by him if I pleased: ''For 
(says he) I do not intend to hurt anybody." 1 25 
thanked him very kindly, and passed by him. And 
in a little time after saw him leap upon the stage, and 
act his part with very great applause. It has been 
observed by several that the lion has changed his 
manner of acting twice or thrice since his first appear- 30 



NICOLINI AND THE LIONS 273 

ance; which will not seem strange when I acquaint 
my reader that the lion has been changed upon the 
audience three several times. The first lion was a 
candle snuffer, who, being a fellow of a testy choleric 
5 temper, overdid his part, and would not suffer himself 
to be killed so easily as he ought to have done ; besides, 
it was observed of him that he grew more surly every 
time he came out of the lion; and having dropped 
some words in ordinary conversation, as if he had 
10 not fought his best, and thdlrhe suffered himself to be 
thrown upon his back in the scuffle, and that he would 
wrestle with Mr. Nicolini for what he pleased, out of 
his lion's skin, it was thought proper to discard him:^ 
And it is verily believed to this day that had he been 
15 brought upon the stage another time, he would cer- 
tainly have done mischief. Besides, it was objected 
against the first lion that he reared himself so high 
upon his hinder paws, and walked in so erect a 
posture that he looked more like an old man than a 
20 lion. 

The second lion was a tailor by trade, who belonged 
to the playhouse, and had the character of a mild and 
peaceable man in his profession. If the former was 
too furious, this was too sheepish, for his part; inso- 
25 much that, after a short modest walk upon the stage^ 
he would fall at the first touch of Hydaspes, without 
grappling with him, and giving him an opportunity 
of showing his variety of Italian trips: it is said 
indeed, that he once gave him a rip in his flesh- 
so color doublet, but this was only to make work for 



274 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

himself, in his private character of a tailor. I must 
not omit that it was this second lion who treated me 
with so much humanity behind the scenes. 

The acting lion at present is, as I am informed, a 
country gentleman, who does it for his diversion, but 5 
desires his name may be concealed. He says very 
handsomely in his own excuse, that he does not act for 
gain, that he indulges an innocent pleasure in it, and 
that it is better to pass a^^y an evening in this manner 
than in gaming and (^rmling : But at the same time lo 
says, with a very agreeab'iJjisaillery upon himself, that 
if his name should be known, the ill-natured world 
might call him, the ass in the lion 's skin. This gentle- 
man's tempe^is made out of such a happy mixture of 
the mild" and the choleric that he outdoes both his is 
predecessors, and has drawn together greater audi- 
ences than have been known in the memory of man. 

I must not conclude my narrative without taking 
riotice of a groundless report that has been raised, to 
a gentleman 's disadvantage of whom I must declare 20 
myself an admirer ; namely, that Signior Nieolini and 
the lion have been seen sitting peaceably by one 
another, and smoking a pipe together, behind the 
scenes ; by which their common enemies Avould insinu- 
ate that it is but a sham combat which they represent 25 
upon the stage : But upon inquiry I find that if any 
such correspondence has passed between them, it was 
not till the combat was over, when th^^n was to be 
looked upon as dead, according to the^ceived rules of 
the drama. Besides, this is what is practiced every so 



NICOLINI AND THE LIONS - 275 

day in Westminster Hall, where nothing is more usual 
than to see a couple of lawyers, who have been tearing 
each other to pieces in the court, embracing one an- 
other as soon as they are out of it. 
5 I would not be thought, in any part of this relation^ 
to reflect upon Signior Nicolini, who in acting this 
part only complies with the wretched taste of his audi- 
ence ; he knows very well that the lion has many more 
admirers than himself; as ile*ey say, of the famous 

10 equestrian statue on the Ppfct-Neuf at Paris, that more 
people go to see the horse than the king who sits 
upon it. On the contrary, it gives me a just indig- 
nation to see a person' whose action gives Jiew majesty 
to kings, resolution to heroes, and softness to lovers, 

15 thus sinking from the greatness of his behavior, and 
degraded into the character of the London Prentice. 
I have often wished that our tragedians would copy 
after this great master in action. Could they make 
the same use of their arms and legs, and inform their 

20 faces with as significant looks and passions, how glori- 
ous would an English tragedy appear with that action, 
which is capable of giving a dignity to the forced 
thoughts, cold conceits, and unnatural expressions of 
an Italian opera. In the meantime, I have related 

25 this combat of the lion to show what are at present 
the reigning entertainments of the politer part of 
Great Britain. 

1 Audiences have often been reproached by writers 

I for the coarseness of their taste, but our present 

80 grievance does not seem to be the want of a good 
taste, but of common sense. C 



XLII 

THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS 

[The Spectator, No. 558. — Addison. Wednesday, June 23, 

j,17U.-] 

Qui' fit, Maecenas, ut nemo, quam sibi Gortem 

Sen ratio dederit, sen fors objecerit, ilia 

Contentus vivat, laudet diversa sequentes? 

O fortunati mercatores, gravis annis 

Miles ait, multo jam fractus membra labore! 5 

Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris: 

Militia est potior. Quid euim? Coneurritur? horae 

Momento cita mors venit, aut victoria laeta. 

Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus, 

Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat, IC 

Hie, datis vadibus qui rure extractus in urbem est, 

Solos feliees viventes clamat in urbe. 

Cetera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) loquacem 

Delassare valent Eabium. Ne te morer, audi. 

Quo rem deducam. Siquis Deus, en ego, dicat, 15 

Jam faciam quod vultis; eris tu, qui modo miles, 

Mercator: tu eonsultus modo rusticus, Hinc vos, 

Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus. Eia! 

Quid statis? Nolint. Atqui licet esse beatis.i 

— Horace. 20 

1 ' ' How comes it, say, Maecenas, if you can, 
That none will live, like a contented man, 
Where choice or chance directs, but each must praise 
The folk who pass through life by other ways? 

276 



THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS 277 

It is a celebrated thought of Socrates that if all the 
misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, 
in order to be equally distributed among the whole 
species, those w^ho now think themselves the most un- 
5 happy would prefer the share they are already pos- 
sessed of before that which would fall to them by such 
a division. Horace has carried this thought a great 
deal further in the motto of my paper, which implies 
that the hardships or misfortunes we lie under are 
10 more easy to us than those of any other person would 
be, in case we could change conditions with him. 

As I was ruminating on these two remarks and 

'^ Those lucky merckants! " cries the soldier stout 
When years of toil have well-nigh worn him out: 
What says the merchant, tossing o'er the brine? 
''Yon soldier's lot is happier sure than mine. 
One short, sharp shock, and presto! all is done: 
Death in an instant comes, or victory's won." 
The lawyer lauds the farmer, when a knock 
Disturbs his sleep at crowing of the cock: 
The farmer, dragged to town on business, swears 
That only citizens are free from cares. 
I need not run through all; so long the list, 
Fabius himself would weary and desist: 
So take in brief my meaning; just suppose 
Some God should come, and with their wishes close: 
''See here am I, come down of my mere grace 
To right you. Soldier, take the merchant's place! 
You, counsellor, the farmer's! Go your way 
One here, one there! None stirring? All say nay? 
How now? You won't be happy when you may?" 

Horace: Satires 1:1:1. Translated ty John Conington. 



278 ESSAYS BY ADDISON" AND STEELE 

seated in m}^ elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; 
when, on a sudden, methought there was a proclama- 
tion made by Jupiter that every mortal should bring 
in his griefs and calamities and thro^v them together 
in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this 5 
purpose. I took my stand in the center of it and saw 
with a great deal of pleasure the whole human species 
marching one after another, and throwing down their 
several loads, which immediately grew up into a pro- 
digious mountain that seemed to rise above the clouds, lo 

There was a certain lady of a thin airy shape, who 
was very active in this solemnity. She carried a 
magnifying glass in one of her hands, and was clothed 
in a loose flowing robe, embroidered with several fig- 
ures of fiends and specters, that discovered themselves is 
in a thousand chimerical shapes as her garment hov- 
ered in the wdnd. There was something wild and dis- 
tracted in her looks. Her name was Fancy. She led 
up every mortal to the appointed place, after having 
very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, 20 
and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted 
within me to see m}^ fellow-creatures groaning under 
their respective burthens, and to consider that prodig- 
ious bulk of human calamities which lay before me. 

There were, however, several persons who gave me 25 
great diversion upon this occasion. I observed one 
bringing in a fardel very carefully concealed under 
an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it 
into the heap, I discovered to be poverty. Another, 
after a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage ; 30 
w^hich, upon examining, I found to be his wife. 



THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS 279 

There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very 
whimsical burthens, composed of darts and flames; 
but, what was very odd, though they sighed as if 
their hearts would break under these bundles of 

5 calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast 
them into the heap, when they came up to it; but 
after a few faint efforts, shook their heads and 
marched away, as heavy loaden as they came. I saw 
multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, 

10 and several young ones who stripped themselves of a 
tawny skin. There were very great heaps of red 
noses, large lips, and rusty teeth. The truth of it is, 
I was surprised to see the greatest part of the moun- 
tain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one 

15 advancing toward the heap with a larger cargo than 
ordinary upon his back, I found upon his near ap- 
proach that it was only a natural hump, which he 
disposed of, with great joy of heart, among this col- 
lection of human miseries. There were likewise distem- 

20 pers of all sorts, though I could not but observe, that 
there were many more imaginary than real. One little 
packet I could not but take notice of, which was a com- 
plication of all the diseases incident to human nature, 
and was in the hand of a great many fine people : This 

25 was called the spleen. But what most of all surprised 
me was a remark I made, that there was not a single 
vice or folly thrown into the whole heap : At which I 
was very much astonished, having concluded within 
myself, that every one would take this opportunity of 

30 getting rid of his passions, prejudices, and frailties. 



280 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

I took notice in particular of a very profligate 
fellow, who I did not question came loaden with his 
crimes, but upon searching into his bundle, I found 
that instead of throwing his guilt from him, he had 
only laid down his memory. He was followed by 5 
another worthless rogue, who flung away his modesty - 
instead of his ignorance. 

When the whole race of mankind had thus cast 
their burdens, the phantom, which had been so busy 
on this occasion, seeing me an idle spectator of what 10 
passed, approached toward me. I grew uneasy at her 
presence, when of a sudden she held her magnify- 
ing glass full before my eyes. I no sooner saw my 
face in it but was startled at the shortness of it, 
which now appeared to me in its utmost aggravation. 15 
The immoderate breadth of the features made me 
very much out of humor with my own countenance, 
upon which I threw it from me like a mask. It hap- 
pened very luckily that one who stood by me had just 
before thrown down his visage, which, it seems, was 20 
too long for him. It was indeed extended to a most 
shameful length; I believe the very chin was, mod- 
estly speaking, as long as my whole face. We had 
both of us an opportunity of mending ourselves, and, 
all the contributions being now brought in, every 25 
man was at liberty to exchange his misfortune for 
those of another person. But as there arose many 
new incidents in the sequel of my vision, I shall re- 
serve them for the subject of my next paper. 



XLIII 

THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS No. II 

[The Spectator, No. 559. — Addison. Friday, June 25, 1714.} 
Quid causae est, merito quiu illis Jupiter ambas 
Iratus buecas inflet, neque se fore posthac 
Tarn f aeilem dieat, votis ut praebeat aurem ? i 

— Horace. 

In my last paper, I gave my reader a sight of that 
mountain of miseries which was made up of those 
several calamities that afflict the minds of men. I 
saw, with unspeakable pleasure, the whole species thus 
5 delivered from its sorrows ; though, at the same time, 
as we stood round the heap, and surveyed the several 
materials of which it was composed, there was scarce 
a mortal, in this vast multitude, who did not discover 
what he thought pleasures and blessings of life; and 
10 wondered how the owners of them ever came to look 
upon them as burthens and grievances. 

As we were regarding very attentively this con- 
fusion of miseries, this chaos of calamity, Jupiter 

1 ^^'^^ere it not most fitting, now, that Jove at this should fume 

and vow. 
He never, never, would again give credence to the prayers of 
men. ' ' 

— Sir Theodore Martin, 
281 



282 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

issued out a second proclamation, that every one was 
now at liberty to exchange his affliction, and to return 
to his habitation with any such other bundle as 
should be delivered to him. 

Upon this, Fancy began again to bestir herself, 5 
and, parceling out the whole heap with incredible 
activity, recommended to every one his particular 
packet. The hurry and confusion at this time was 
not to be expressed. Some observations, which I made 
upon the occasion, I shall communicate to the public. 10 
A venerable gray-headed man, who had laid down 
the colic, and who, I found, wanted an heir to his 
estate, snatched up an undutiful son, that had been 
thrown into the heap by his angry father. The 
graceless youth, in less than a quarter of an hour, i5 
pulled the old gentleman by the beard, and had like 
to have knocked his brains out; so that meeting the 
true father, who came toward him in a fit of the 
gripes, he begged him to take his son again, and give 
back his colic ; but they were incapable, either of 20 
them, to recede from the choice they had made. A 
poor galley slave, who had thrown down his chains, 
took up the gout in their stead, but made such wry 
faces that one might easily perceive he was no great 
gainer by the bargain. It was pleasant enough to 25 
see the several exchanges that were made, for sickness 
against poverty, hunger against want of appetite, 
and care against pain. 

The female world were very busy among themselves 
in bartering for features ; one was trucking a lock of 30 



THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS NO. II 283 

gray hairs for a carbuncle, another was making over 
a short waist for a pair of round shoulders, and a 
third cheapening a bad face for a lost reputaticn : 
But on all these occasions, there was not one of them 
5 who did not think the new blemish, as soon as sl:e 
had got it into her possession, much more disagreeable 
than the old one. I made the same observation on 
every other misfortune or calamity, which every one 
in the assembly brought upon himself, in lieu of what 

10 he had parted with; whether it be that all the evils 
which befall us are in some measure suited and pro- 
portioned to our strength, or that every evil becomes 
more supportable by our being accustomed to it, I 
shall not determine. 

15 I could not for my heart forbear pitying the poor 
hump-backed gentleman mentioned in the former 
paper, who went off a very w^ell-shaped person with 
a stone in his bladder ; nor the fine gentleman who 
had struck up this bargain with him, that limped 

20 through a whole assembly of ladies who used to admire 

him, v>dth a pair of shoulders peeping over his head. 

I must not omit my own particular adventure. My 

friend with the long visage had no sooner taken upon 

him my short face, but he made such a grotesque 

25 figure in it that, as I looked upon him, I could not 
forbear laughing at myself, insomuch that I put my 
own face out of countenance. The poor gentleman 
was so sensible of the ridicule that I found he was 
ashamed of what he had done : On the other side I 

30 found that I myself had no great reason to triumph, 



284 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

for as I went to touch my forehead I missed the place 
and clapped my finger upon my upper lip. Besides, 
as my nose was exceeding prominent, I gave it two or 
three unlucky knocks as I was playing my hand about 
my face, and aiming at some other part of it. I saw 5 
two other gentlemen by me, who were in the same 
ridiculous circumstances. These had made a foolish 
swap between a couple of thick bandy legs, and two 
long trapsticks that had no calfs to them. One of 
these looked like a man walking upon stilts, and was i< 
so lifted up into the air above his ordinary height 
that his head turned round with it, while the other 
made such awkward circles, as he attempted to walk, 
that he scarce knew how to move forward upon his 
new supporters : Observing him to be a pleasant kind ie 
of fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and told 
him I would lay him a bottle of wine that he did not 
march up to it on a line, that I drew for him, in a 
quarter of an hour. 

The heap was at last distributed among the two 20 
sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wan- 
dered up and down under the pressure of their sev- 
eral burthens. The whole plain was filled with mur- 
murs and complaints, groans and lamentations. 
Jupiter at length, taking compassion on the poor 25 
mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down 
their loads, with a design to give every one his own 
again. They discharged themselves with a great deal 
of pleasure, after which, the phantom, who had led 
them into such gross delusions, was commanded to so 



THE VISION 01^ DISCONTENTS NO. II 285 

disappear. There was sent in her stead a goddess of 
a quite different figure : her motions were steady and 
composed, and her aspect serious but cheerful. She 
every now and then cast her eyes toward heaven, 
5 and fixed them upon Jupiter : her name was Patience. 
She had no sooner placed herself by the mount of 
sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the 
whole heap sunk to such a degree, that it did not 
appear a third part so big as it was before. She 

10 afterwards returned every man his own proper calam- 
ity, and teaching him how to bear it in the most 
commodious manner,^ he marched off with it con- 
tentedly, being ver}^ well pleased that he had not 
been left to his own choice as to the kind of evils 

15 which fell to his lot. 

Besides the several pieces of morality to be drawn 
out of this vision, I learnt from it never to repine 
at my own misfortunes, or to envy the happiness of 
another, since it is impossible for any man to form a 

20 right judgment of his neighbor's sufferings ; for which 
reason also I have determined never to think too 
lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the 
sorrows of my fellow creatures with sentiments of 
humanity and compassion. 

1 Note that this clause lias no grammatical relation to the 
rest of the sentence. 



XLIY 

A CURE FOR THE SPLEEN 

[The Tatler, No. 80, II.— Steele. Thursday, Octoter 13, 

1709.] 

White's Chocolate House, October 12. 

It will be allowed me that I have all along showed 
great respect in matters which concern the fair sex; 
bnt the inhumanity with which the author of the 
following letter has been used is not to be suffered. 

October 9. 5 
''Sir, — Yesterday, I had the misfortune to drop in 
at my lady Haughty 's upon her visiting-day. When 
I entered the room where she receives company, they 
all stood up indeed; but they stood as if they were 
to stare at, rather than to receive, me. After a long 10 
pause, a servant brought a round stool, on which I 
sat down at the lower end of the room, in the presence 
of no less than twelve persons, gentlemen and ladies, 
lolling in elbow-chairs. And, to complete my disgrace, 
my mistress was of the society. I tried to compose 15 
myself in vain, not knowing how to dispose of either 
legs or arms, nor how to shape my countenance; the 
eyes of the whole room being still upon me in a pro- 
found silence. My confusion at last was so great that, 

286 



A CUEE FOE THE SPLEEN 287 

without speaking, or being spoken to, I fled for it and 
left the assembly to treat me at their discretion. A 
lecture from you upon these inhuman distinctions in 
a free nation will, I doubt not, prevent the like evils 

5 for the future and make it, as we say, as cheap sitting 
as standing. I am with the greatest respect. Sir, 
''Your most humble and most obedient servant, 

''J. E. 
"P. S. I had almost forgot to inform you that a 

10 fair young lady sat in an armless chair upon my 

right hand with manifest discontent in her looks.'' 

Soon after the receipt of this epistle, I heard a very 

gentle knock at my door: my m.aid went down and 

brought up word, "that a tall, lean, black man, well 

15 dressed, who said he had not the honor to be ac- 
quainted with me, desired to be admitted." I bid 
her show him up, met him at my chamber door, and 
then fell back a few paces. He approached me with 
great respect and told me, with a low voice, ''he was 

20 the gentleman that had been seated upon the round 
stool." I immediately recollected that there was a 
joint stool in my chamber, which I was afraid he 
might take for an instrument of distinction, and there- 
fore winked at my boy to carry it into my closet. 

25 1 then took him by the hand and led him to the upper 
end of my room, where I placed him in my great 
elbow-chair ; at the same time drawing another with- 
out arms to it for myself to sit by him. I then asked 
him, "at what time this misfortune befell him?" 

30 He ai:swered, "between the hours of seven and eight 



288 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

in the evening." I farther demanded of him, what 
he had eat or drank that day ? He replied, ' ' nothing 
but a dish of water gruel with a few plums in it." 
In the next place, I felt his pulse, w^hich was very low 
and languishing. These circumstances confirmed me t 
in an opinion, which I had entertained upon the first 
reading of his letter, that the gentleman was far 
gone in the spleen. I therefore advised him to rise 
the next morning and plunge into a cold bath, there 
to remain under water until he was almost drowned, i 
This I ordered him to repeat six days successively; 
and on the seventh to repair at the wonted hour to 
my lady Haughty 's and to acquaint me afterward 
with what he shalP meet with there and particularly 
to tell me, whether he shall think they stared uponi 
him so much as the time before. The gentleman 
smiled; and by his way of talking to me, showed 
himself a man of excellent sense in all particulars, 
unless when a cane chair, a round or a joint stool, 
were spoken of. He opened his heart to me at the 2 
same time concerning several other grievances ; such 
as being overlooked in public assemblies, having his 
bows unanswered, being helped last at table, and 
placed at the back part of a coach; with many other 
distresses, which have withered his countenance, and 21 
"worn him to a skeleton. Finding him a man of rea- 
son, I entered into the bottom of his distemper. 
''Sir," said I, "there are more of your constitution 
in this island of Great Britain than in any other part 
1 An error for ' ' should. ' ' 



A CUEE FOR THE SPLEEN 289 

of the world; and I beg the favor of you to tell me 
whether you do not observe that you meet with most 
affronts in rainy days?" He answered candidly^ 
*'that he had long observed that people were less 

5 saucy in sunshine than in cloudy weather." Upon 
which I told him plainly, "his distemper was the 
spleen; and that, though the world was very ill- 
natured, it was not so bad as he believed it. " I fur- 
ther assured him, that his use of the cold bath, with 

10 a course of steel which I should prescribe him, would 
certainly cure most of his acquaintance of their rude- 
ness, ill-behavior, and impertinence." My patient 
smiled and promised to observe my prescriptions, not 
forgetting to give me an account of their operation. 

15 This distemper being pretty epidemical, I shall for 
the benefit of mankind, give the public an account 
of the progress I make in the cure of it. 



XLY 

TEMPERATE LIVING 

[The Spectator, No. 195. — Addison. Saturday, Octoher IS, 

1711.] 

NT^TTiot^ ovok taacTiv^ oaio ttXIov rjjxlav Travros, 
OiiS' opov iv fJLaXd)(r] re Kal aacfioSeXw /xey' ovevap.^ 

— Hesiod. 

There is a story in the Arabian Nights Tales of 
a king who had long languished under an ill habit 
of body, and had taken abundance of remedies to 
no purpose. At length, says the fable, a physician 
cured him by the following method. He took an 5 
hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several drugs, 
after which he closed it up so artificially that nothing 
appeared. He likewise took a mall, and after having 
hollowed the handle, and that part which strikes the 
ball, he enclosed in them several drugs after the same 10 
manner as in the ball itself. He then ordered the 
sultan, who was his patient, to exercise himself early 
in the morning, with these rightly prepared instru- 
ments, till such time as he should sweat. When, as 
the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments per- 15 
spiring through the wood, had so good an influence 

1 ' ' Pools not to know that half exceeds the whole, 
How blest the sparing meal and temperate bowl ! ' ' 
290 



TEMPEEATE LIVING 291 

on the sultan's constitution, that they cured him of 
an indisposition which all the compositions he had 
taken inwardly had not been able to remove. This 
Eastern allegory is finely contrived to show us how 

5 beneficial bodily labor is to health, and that exercise 
is the most effectual physic. I have described, in 
my hundred and fifteenth paper, from the general 
structure and mechanism of an human body, how 
absolutely necessary exercise is for its preservation. 

10 I shall in this place recommend another great pre- 
servative of health, which in many cases produces 
the same effects as exercise, and may, in some measure, 
supply its place, where opportunities of exercise are 
wanting. The preservative I am speaking of is tem- 

15 perance, which. has those particular advantages above 
all other means of health that it may be practiced 
by all ranks and conditions, at any season, or in any 
place. It is a kind of regimen, into which every man 
may put himself, without interruption to business, 

20 expense of money, or loss of time. If exercise throws 
off all superfluities, temperance prevents them. If 
exercise clears the vessels, temperance neither satiates 
nor overstrains them. If exercise raises proper fer- 
ments in the humors, and promotes the circulation 

25 of the blood, temperance gives nature her full play, 
and enables her to exert herself in all her force and 
vigor. If exercise dissipates a growing distemper, 
temperance starves it. 

Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the 

30 substitute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are 



292 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

indeed absolutely necessaiy in acute distempers, that 
cannot wait the slow operations of these two great 
instruments of health ; but did men live in an habitual 
course of exercise and temperance, there would be 
but little occasion for them. Accordingly we find that 5 
those parts of the world are the most healthy, where 
they subsist by the chase ; and that men lived longest 
when their lives were employed in hunting, and when 
they had little food besides what they caught. Blis- 
tering, cupping, bleeding are seldom of use but to the lo 
idle and intemperate ; as all those inward applications 
which are so much in practice among us are for the 
most part nothing else but expedients to make luxury 
consistent with health. The apothecary is perpetually 
employed in countermining the cook and the vintner, is 
It is said of Diogenes, that, meeting a young man 
who was going to a feast, he took him up in the 
street and carried him home to his friends, as one 
who was running into imminent danger, had not he 
prevented him. "What would that philosopher have 20 
said, had he been present at the gluttony of a modern 
meal? Would not he have thought the master of a 
family mad, and have begged his servants to tie 
down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, 
and flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; 25 
throw down salads of twenty different herbs, sauces 
of an hundred ingredients, confections and fruits of 
numberless sweets and flavors ? What unnatural 
motions and counterferments must such a medley of 
iutemperance produce in the body? For my part, so 



TEMPEEATE LIVING 293 

when I behold a fashionable table set out in all its 
magnificence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, 
fevers and lethargies, with other innumerable dis- 
tempers, lying in ambuscade among the dishes. 

5 Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. 
Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs 
are the food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of 
a third. Man falls upon eYevy thing that comes in his 
way ; not the smallest fruit or excrescence of the earth, 

10 scarce a berry or a mushroom, can escape him. 

It is impossible to lay down any determinate riile 
for temperance, because what is luxury in one may 
be temperance in another; but there are few that 
have lived any time in the world who are not judges 

15 of their own constitutions, so far as to know what 
kinds and what proportions of food do best agree 
with them. Were I to consider my readers as my 
patients, and to prescribe such a kind of temperance 
as is accommodated to all persons, and such as is 

20 particularly suitable to our climate and way of living, 
I would copy the following rules of a very eminent 
physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. 
If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking anything 
strong till you have finished your meal; at the same 

25 time abstain from all sauces, or at least such as are 
rot the most plain ?nd simple. A man could not be 
weU guilty of gluttony, if he stuck to these few obvious 
and easy rules. In the first case there would be no 
variety of tastes to solicit his palate, and occasion 

30 excess; nor in the second any artificial provocatives 



294 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

to relieve satiety, and create a false appetite. Were 
I to prescribe a rule for drinking, it should be formed 
upon a saying quoted by Sir William Temple : the 
first glass for myself, the second for my friends, the 
third for good humor, and the fourth for mine ene- 5 
mies. But because it is impossible for one who lives 
in the world to diet himself always in so philosophical 
a manner, I think every man should have his days 
of abstinence, according as his constitution will per- 
mit. These are great reliefs to nature, as they qualify lo 
her for struggling with hunger and thirst, whenever 
any distemper or duty of life may put her upon such 
difficulties ; and at the same time give her an oppor- 
tunity of extricating herself from her oppressions, 
and recovering the several tones and springs of her 15 
distended vessels. Besides that, abstinence well timed 
often kills a sickness in embryo, and destroys the 
first seeds of an indisposition. It is observed by two 
or three ancient authors that Socrates, notwithstand- 
ing he lived in Athens during that Great Plague 20 
which has made so much noise through all ages, and 
has been celebrated at different times by such emi- 
nent hands, I say, notwithstanding that he lived in 
the time of this devouring pestilence, he never caught 
the least infection, which those writers unanimously 25- 
ascribe to that uninterrupted temperance which he 
always observed. 

And here I cannot but mention an observation 
which I have often made, upon reading the lives of 
the philosophers, and comparing it with any series so 



TEMPEEATE LIVi:^rG 295 

of kings or great men of the same number. If we 
consider these ancient sages, a great part of whose 
philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious 
course of life, one would think the life of a philoso- 

spher, and the life of a man, were of two different 
dates. For we find that the generality of these wise 
men were nearer an hundred than sixty years of age 
at the time of their respective deaths. But the most 
remarkable instance of the efficacy of temperance 

10 toward the procuring of long life is what we meet 
with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the 
Venetian, which I the rather mention, because it is 
of undoubted credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, 
who was of the same family, attested more than once 

15 in conversation, when he resided in England. 
Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I 
am mentioning, was of an infirm constitution till 
about forty, when by obstinately persisting in an 
exact course of temperance, he recovered a perfect 

20 state of health; insomuch that at fourscore he pub- 
lished his book, which has been translated into Eng- 
lish under the title of The Sure Way of Attaining a 
Long and Healthful Life. He lived to give a third 
or fourth edition of it, and after having passed his 

25 hundredth year, died without pain or agony, and like 
one who falls asleep. The treatise I mention has been 
taken notice of by several eminent authors, and is 
written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion^ 
and good sense as are the natural concomitants of 

30 temperance and sobriety. . The mixture of the old 



296 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

man in it is rather a recommendation than a discredit 
to it. 

Having designed this paper as the sequel to that 
upon exercise, I have not here considered temperance 
as it is a moral virtue, which I shall make the subjects 
of a future speculation, but only as it is the means 
of health. L 



XLYI 

THE LOTTEEY 
[The Spectator, No. 191, — Addison. Tuesday, Octoter 9, 

— ovXov oveipov^ 

Some ludicrous schoolmen have put the case that 
if an ass were placed between two bundles of hay, 
which affected his senses equally on each side, and 
tempted him in the very same degree, whether it 

5 would be possible for him to eat of either. They 
generally determine this question to the disadvantage 
of the ass, who they say would starve in the midst of 
plenty, as not having a single grain of free will to 
determine him more to the one than to the other. 

10 The bundle of hay on either side, striking his sight 
and smell in the same proportion, would keep him 
in a perpetual suspense, like the two magnets which, 
travelers have told us, are placed, one of them in the 
roof, and the other in the floor cf ^lahomet's burying 

15 place at Mecca, and by that means, say they, pull the 

impostor's iron coffin with such an equal attraction 

that it hangs in the air between both of them. As 

for the ass's behavior in such nice circumstances, 

" whether he would starve sooner than violate his neu- 

1 ' ' Baneful dream. " 

297 



298 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

trality to the two bundles of hay, I shall not presume 
to determine; but only take notice of the conduct of 
our own species in the same perplexity. When a man 
has a mind to venture his money in a lottery, every 
figure of it appears equally alluring, and as likely to 5 
succeed as any of its fellows. They all of them have 
the same pretensions to good luck, stand upon the 
same foot of competition, and no manner of reason 
can be given why a man should prefer one to the other 
before the lottery is drawn. In this case, therefore, lo 
caprice very often acts in the place of reason, and 
forms to itself some groundless imaginary motive, 
where real and substantial ones are wanting. I know 
a well meaning man that is very well pleased to risk 
his good fortune upon the number 1711, because it is 
is the year of our Lord. I am acquainted with a 
tacker that would give a good deal for the number 
134. On the contrary, I have been told of a certain 
zealous dissenter who, being a great enemy to popery, 
and believing that bad men are the most fortunate 20 
in this world, will lay two to one on the number 1666 
against any other number, because, says he, it is the 
number of the beast. Several would prefer the num- 
ber 12,000 before any other, as it is the number of 
the pounds in the great prize. In short, some are 25 
pleased to find their own age in their number; some 
that they have got a number which makes a pretty 
appearance in the ciphers, and others because it is 
the same number that succeeded in the last lottery. 
Each of these, upon no other grounds, thinks he so 



THE LOTTEEY • 299 

stands fairest for the great lot, and that he is pos- 
sessed of what may not be improperly called the 
golden number. 

These principles of election are the pastimes and 

5 extravagances of human reason, which is of so busy 
a nature that it will be exerting itself in the meanest 
trifles, and working even when it wants materials. 
The wisest of men are sometimes acted by such unac- 
countable motives, as the life of the fool and the 

10 superstitious is guided by nothing else. 

I am surprised that none of the fortune tellers, or 
as the French call them, the Diseurs de tonne aven- 
hire, who publish their bills in every quarter of the 
town, have not turned our lotteries to their advan- 

15 tage : did any of them set up for a caster of fortunate 
figures, what might he not get by his pretended 
discoveries and predictions? 

I remember among the advertisements in the Post- 
hoy of September the 27th, I was surprised to see 

20 the following one. 

This is to give notice. That ten shillings over and 
above the market price will be given for the ticket 
in 1,500,000L lottery. No. 132, by Nath Cliff at the 
Bible and Three Crowns in Cheapside. 

25 This advertisement has given great matter of specu- 
lation to coffee house theorists. Mr. Cliff's principles 
and conversation have been canvassed upon this occa- 
sion, and various conj^ectures made why he should 
thus set his heart upon No. 132. I have examined all 

30 the powers in those numbers, broken them into frac- 



300 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

tions, extracted the square and cube root, divided 
and multiplied them all ways, but could not arrive 
at the secret till about three days ago, when I received 
the following letter from an unknown hand; by 
which I find that Mr. Nathaniel Cliff is only the 5 
agent, and not the principal, in this advertisement. 
''Mr. Spectator, 

I am the person that lately advertised I would give 
ten shillings more than the current price for the 
ticket No. 132 in the lottery now drawing, which lo 
is a secret I have communicated to some friends, who 
rally me incessantly upon that account. You must 
know I have but one ticket, for which reason, and a 
certain dream I have lately had more than once, I 
was resolved it should be the number I most approved. i5 
I am so positive I have pitched upon the great lot 
that I could almost lay all I am worth of it. My 
visions are so frequent and strong upon this occasion 
that I have not only possessed the lot, but disposed 
of the money which in all probability it will sell for. 20 
This morning, in particular, I set up an equipage 
which I look upon to be the gayest in the town. The 
liveries are very rich, but not gaudy. I should be 
very glad to see a speculation or two upon lottery 
subjects, in which you would oblige all people ccn-25 
cerned, and in particular 

Your most humble servant, 

George Gossling. 

P. S. Dear Spec. If I get the 12,000 pound, I'll 
make thee a handsome present." 30 



THE LOTTEEY 301 

After having wished my correspondent good luck, 
and thanked him for his intended kindness, I shall 
for this time dismiss the subject of the lottery, and 
only observe that the greatest part of mankind are 
5 in some degree guilty of my friend Gossling 's extrava- 
gance. We are apt to rely upon future prospects, 
and become really expensive while we are only rich 
in possibility. We live up to our expectations, not 
to our possessions, and make a figure proportionable 

10 to what we may be, not what w^e are. We outrun our 
present income, as not douWng to disburse ourselves 
out of the profits of some future place, project, or 
reversion that we have in view. It is through this 
temper of mind, which is so common among us, that 

15 we see tradesmen break, who have met with no m.is- 
fortunes in their business, and men of estates reduced 
to poverty, who have never suffered from losses or 
repairs, tenants, taxes, or lawsuits. In short, it is this 
foolish sanguine temper, this depending upon con- 

2otingent futurities that occasions romantic generosity, 
chimerical grandeur, senseless ostentation, and gen- 
erally ends in beggary and ruin. The man who will 
live above his present circumstances is in great dan- 
ger of living in a little time much beneath them, or, 

25 as the Italian proverb runs. The man who lives by 
hope will die by hunger. 

It should be an indispensable rule in life to con- 
tract our desires to our present condition, and, 
whatever may be our expectations, to live within the 

30 compass of what we actually possess. It will be time 



302 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

enough to enjoy an estate when it comes into our 
hands; but if we anticipate^ our good fortune, we 
shall lose the pleasure of it when it arrives, and may 
possibly never possess what we have so foolislily 
counted upon. L 5 

1 Addison uses this word in its only proper sense : So to act 
in expectation of anything as to prevent or to forestall its 
natural consequences, as in warding off a blow or in mortgag- 
ing one's future income. 



XLVII 

STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY 

[The Tatler, No. 19 S.— Addison. Saturday, July 1, 1710.] 

Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens.i 

— Horace. 

From my own Apartment, June 30. 

Some years since, I was engaged with a eoacliful 
of friends to take a journey as far as the Land's 
End. We were very well pleased with one another 
the first day; every one endeavoring to recommend 

5 himself by his good humor and complaisance to the 
rest of the company. This good correspondence did 
not last long; one of our party was soured the very 
first evening by a plate of butter which had not been 
melted to his mind and which spoiled his temper to 

10 such a degree that he continued upon the fret to the 
end of our journey. A second fell off from his good 
humor the next morning, for no other reason that I 
could imagine but because I chanced to step into the 
coach before him and place myself on the shady side. 

15 This, however, was but my own private guess ; for he 
did not mention a word of it, nor indeed of any thing 
else for three days following. The rest of our com- 

^ ' ' Gladly I 

With thee would live, with thee would die.^' 

— Francis, 
303 



304 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

pany held out very near half the way, when, on a 
sudden, Mr. Sprightly fell asleep ; and, instead of 
endeavoring to divert and oblige us, as he had hitherto 
done, carried himself with an unconcerned, careless, 
drowsy behavior, until we came to our last stage. 5 
There were three of us who still held up our heads 
and did all we could to make our journey agreeable; 
but, to my shame be it spoken, about three miles on 
this side of Exeter, I was taken with an unaccountable 
fit of sullenness, that hung upon me tor above three- 10 
score miles; whether it were for want of respect, cr 
from an accidental tread on my foot, or from a 
foolish maid's calling me "The old gentleman," I 
cannot tell. In short, there was but one who kept 
his good humor to the Land's End. 15 

There was another coach that went along with us, 
in which I likewise observed that there were many 
secret jealousies, heart-burnings, and animosities : for 
when we joined companies at night, I could not but 
take notice that the passengers neglected their owm 20 
company and studied how to make themselves esteemed 
by us, who were altogether strangers to them; until 
at length they grew so well acquainted with us that 
they liked us as little as they did one another. When 
1 reflect upon this journey, I often fancy it to be a 25 
picture of human life, in respect to the several friend- 
ships, contracts, and alliances that are made and dis- 
solved in the several periods of it. The most delight- 
ful and most lasting engagements are generally those 
which pass between man and woman; and yet upon 30 



STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY 305 

what trifles are they weakened or entirely broken! 
Sometimes the parties fly asunder even in the midst 
of courtship and sometimes grow cool in the very 
honey-month. Some separate before the first child, 
5 and some after the fifth ; others continue good until 
thirty, others until forty; while some few, whose 
souls are of a happier make, and better fitted to one 
another, travel on together to the end of their journey 
in a continual intercourse of kind offices, and mutual 
10 endearments. 

When we therefore choose our companions for life^ 
if we hope to keep both them and ourselves in good 
humor to the last stage of it, we must be extremely 
careful in the choice we make as well as in the con- 
is duct on our own part. When the persons to whom 
we join ourselves can stand an examination and bear 
the scrutiny ; when they mend upon our acquaintance 
with them and discover new beauties the more we 
search into their characters; our love will naturally 
20 rise in proportion to their perfections. 

But because there are very few possessed of such 
accomplishments of body and mind, we ought to look 
after those qualifications both in ourselves and others, 
which are indispensably necessary toward this happy 
25 union and which are in the power of every one to 
acquire, or, at least, to cultivate and improve. These, 
in my opinion, are cheerfulness and constancy. A 
cheerful temper, joined with innocence, will make 
beauty attractive, knowledge delightful, and wit good- 
30 natured. It will lighten sickness, poverty, and afflic- 



306 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

tion; convert ignorance into an amiable simplicity; 
and render deformity itself agreeable. 

Constancy is natural to persons of even tempers and 
uniform dispositions; and may be acquired by those 
of the greatest fickleness, violence, and passion, who i 
consider seriously the terms of union upon which they 
come together, the mutual interest in which they are 
engaged, with all the m_otives that ought to incite 
their tenderness and compassion toward those who 
have their dependence upon them and are embarked i 
with them for life in the same state of happiness or 
misery. Constancy, when it grows in the mind upon 
considerations of this nature, becomes a moral virtue 
and a kind of good-nature that is not subject to any 
change of health, age, fortune, or any of those acci- ] 
dents which are apt to unsettle the best dispositions, 
that are founded rather in constitution than in rea- 
son. Where such a constancy as this is wanting, the 
most inflamed passion may fall away into coldness 
and indifference and the most melting tenderness de-r 
generate into hatred and aversion. I shall conclude 
this paper with a story that is very well known in 
the north of England. 

About thirty years ago, a packet-boat that had 
several passengers on board was cast away upon a ^ 
rock and in so great danger of sinking that all who 
were in it endeavored to save themselves as well as 
they could; though only those who could swim well 
had a bare possibility of doing it. Among the passen- 
gers there were two women of fashion, who, seeing g 



STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY 307 

themselves in such, a disconsolate condition, begged 
of their husbands not to leave them. One of them 
chose rather to die with his wife than to forsake her; 
the other, though he was moved with the utmost com- 

5 passion for his wife, told her, "that for the good of 
their children, it was better one of them should live 
than both perish." By a great piece of good luck, 
next to a miracle, when one of our good men had 
taken the last and long farew^ell in order to save him- 

10 self and the other held in his arms the person that 
was dearer to him than life, the ship was preserved. 
It is with a secret sorrow and vexation of mind that 
I must tell the sequel of the story and let my reader 
know that this faithful pair who were ready to have 

15 died in each other's arms, about three years after 
their escape, upon some trifling disgust, grew to a 
coldness at first and at length fell out to such a degree 
that they left one another and parted forever. The 
other couple lived together in an uninterrupted f riend- 

20 ship and felicity; and, what was remarkable, the hus- 
band whom the shipwreck had like to have separated 
from his wife died a few months after her, not being 
able to survive the loss of her. 

I must confess, there is something in the change- 

25 ableness and inconstancy of human nature that very 
often both dejects and terrifies me. Whatever I am 
at present, I tremble to think what I may be. While I 
find this principle in me, how can I assure myself that 
I shall be always true to my God, my friend, or 

30 myself ? In short, without constancy there is neither 
love, friendship, nor virtue, in the world. 



XLYIII 

THE VISION OF MIKZAH 

l^The Spectator, No. 159. — Addison. Saturday, Septemder 

1, 1711.'] 

Omnem, quae- nunc obducta tuenti 



Mortales liebetat visus tibi, et humida circum 

Caligat, nubem eripiam .i 

— Virgil. 

"When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several 
oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. 
Among others I met with one, entituled The Visions of 
Mirzah, which I have read over with great pleasure. 
I intend to give it to the public when I have no other 
entertainment for them and shall begin with the first 
vision, which I have translated, word for word, as 
follows : 

"On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to 
the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, i 
after having washed myself and offered up my morn- 
ing devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in 
order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and 

1 ' ' I will take away wholly the cloud whose veil, cast over 
your eyes, dulls your mortal vision and darkles round you 
damp and thick." 

— JoJin Conington. 
308 



THE VISION OF MIEZAH 309 

prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of 
the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation 
on the vanity of human life; and passing from one 
thought to another, Surely, said I, man is but a 

5 shadow and life a dream. "Whilst I was thus musing, 
I cast my eyes toward the summit of a rock that was 
not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit 
of a shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his 
hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his 

10 lips, and began to play upon it. The sound of it was 
exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes 
that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether dif- 
ferent from any thing I had ever heard. They put 
me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played 

15 to the departed souls of good men upon their first 
arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of 
the last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures 
of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret 
raptures. 

20 "I had been often told that the rock before me was 
the haunt of a genius; and that several had been 
entertained with music who had passed by it, but 
never heard that the musician had before made him- 
self visible. When he had raised my thoughts, by 

25 those transporting airs which he played, to taste the 
pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him 
like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the 
waving of his hand directed me to approach the place 
where he sat. I drew near with that reverence 

30 which is due to a superior nature ; and as my heart 



310 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had 
heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The genius 
smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affa- 
bility that familiarized him to my imagination, and 
at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with 5 
which I approached him. He lifted me from the 
ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirzah, said he, 
I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; Follow me. 

He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, 
and placing me on the top of it, Cast thy eyes east- 1 
ward, said he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, 
said I, a huge valley and a prodigious tide of water 
rolling through it. The valley that thou seest, said 
he, is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that 
thou seest is part of the great tide of eternity. What n 
is the reason, said I, that the tide I see rises out of a 
thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a 
thick mist at the other? What thou seest, said he, is 
that portion of eternity which is called time, measured 
out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of 2C 
the world to its consummation. Examine now, said 
he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at both 
ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see 
a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide. 
The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life; con- 25 
sider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey 
of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten 
entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added 
to those that were entire, made up the number about 
an hundred. As I was counting the arches, the so 



THE VISION OF MIRZAH 311 

genius told me that this bridge consisted at first of a 
thousand arches ; but that a great flood swept away 
the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition 
I now beheld it. But tell me further, said he, what 

5 thou discoverest on it. I see multitudes of people 
passing over it, said I, and a black cloud hanging on 
each end of it. As I looked more attentively, I saw 
several of the passengers dropping through the bridge, 
into the great tide that flowed underneath it; and 

10 upon further examination, perceived there were 
innumerable trapdoors that lay concealed in the 
bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon but 
they fell through them into the tide and immediately 
disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were set very 

15 thick at the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs 
of people no sooner broke through the cloud but many 
of them fell into them. They grew thinner toward. 
the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together 
toward the end of the arches that were entire. 

20 ' ' There were indeed some persons, but their number 
was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling 
march on the broken arches, but fell through one after 
another, being quite tired and spent with so long 
a walk. 

25 "I passed some time in the contemplation of this 

* wonderful structure, and the great variety of objects 
Yv'hich it presented. My heart was filled with a deep 
melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in 
the midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at every 

30 thing that stood by them to save themiselves. Some 



312 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

were looking up toward the heavens in a thoughtful 
posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled 
and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in 
the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in their eyes 
and danced before them, but often when they thought i 
themselves within the reach of them their footing 
failed and down they sunk. In this confusion of 
objects, I observed some with scimitars in their hands, 
who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrusting several 
persons on trapdoors which did not seem to lie in i 
their way, and which they might have escaped had 
they not been thus forced upon them. 

"The genius, seeing me indulge myself in this mel- 
ancholy prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough 
upon it: Take thine eyes off the bridge, said he, andi 
tell me if thou yet seest any thing thou dost not com- 
prehend. Upon looking up, What mean, said 1, those 
great flights of birds that are perpetually hovering 
about the bridge, and settling upon it from time to 
time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants ; 2 
and among many other feathered creatures several 
little winged boys that perch in great numbers upon 
the middle arches. These, said the genius, are envy, 
avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like cares 
and passions, that infest human life. 21 

"I here fetched a deep sigh. Alas, said I, man was 
made in vain ! How is he given away to misery and 
mortality ! tortured in life, and SAvallowed up in 
death ! The genius being moved with compassion 
toward me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect : 3( 



THE VISION OF MIRZAII 313 

Look no more, said he, on man in the first stage of his 
existence, in his setting out for eternity; but cast 
thine eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears 
the several generations of mortals that fall into it. 

5 1 directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether 
or no the good genius strengthened it with any super- 
natural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was 
before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the 
valley opening at the further end, and spreading 

10 forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock 
of adamant running through the midst of it, and 
dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still 
rested on one half of it, insomuch that I could dis- 
cover nothing in it, but the other appeared to me a 

15 vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, that 
were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven 
with a thousand little shining seas that ran among 
them. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, 
with garlands upon their heads, passing among the 

20 trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, or resting 
on beds of flowers; and could hear a confused har- 
mony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, 
and musical instruments. Gladness grew in me upon 
the discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for 

25th3 wings of an eagle that I might fly away to those 
happy seats; but the genius told me there was no 
passage to them, except through the gates of death 
that I saw opening every moment upon the bridge. 
The islands, said he, that lie so fresh and green before 

30 thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean 



314 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in 
number than the sands on the seashore; there are 
myriads of islands behind those which thou here dis- 
coverest, reaching further than thine eye or even 
thine imagination can extend itself. These are the 5 
mansions of good men after death, who, according to 
the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, 
are distributed among these several islands, which 
abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, 
suitable to the relishes and perfections of those who lo 
are settled in them ; every island is a paradise accom- 
modated to its respective inhabitants. Are not these, 
Mirzah, habitations worth contending for? Does 
life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities 
of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, is 
that will convey thee to so happy an existence ? Think 
not man was made in vain, who has such an eternity 
reserved for him. I gazed with inexpressible pleasure 
on these happy islands. At length, said I, show me 
now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those 20 
dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other side 
of the rock of adamant. The genius making me no 
answer^ I turned about to address myself to him a 
second time, but I found that he had left me ; I then 
turned again to the vision which I had been so long 25 
contemplating, but instead of the rolling tide, the 
arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing 
but the long hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, 
sheep, and camels grazing upon the sides of it. " . . . 

C 30 



XLIX 

WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

[The Spectator, No. 26. — Addison. Friday, March 30, 1711.] 

Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas 

Regumque turres. O beate Sesti, 
Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam. 

Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque manes, 

Et domus exilis Plutonia A 

— Horace. 

When I am in a serious humor, I very often w^ilk 
by myself in Westminister Abbey; where the gloomi- 
ness of the place, and the use to which it is applied, 
with the solemnity of the building, and the condition 

5 of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind 
with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, 
that is not disagreeable. I yesterday passed a whole 
afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the 
church, amusing myself with the tombstones and 

10 inscriptions that I met with in those several regions 

1 ' ' O Sextius, Fortune 's favorite, the kingly tower alike 

And pauper's liut pale Death will strike. 

Life's narrow space forbids to frame large hopes. Thee, too, 

the night 
Will vex; thee, many a fabled sprite, 
Thee, Pluto's cribbing cell." 

— W. E. Gladstone. 
315 



316 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

of the dead. Most of them recorded nothing else of 
the buried person but that he was born upon one 
day and died upon another : The whole history of 
his life being comprehended in those two circum- 
stances that are common to all mankind. I could 5 
not but look upon these registers of existence, whether 
of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the de- 
parted persons; w^ho had left no other memorial of 
them but that they were born and that they died. 
They put me in mind of several persons mentioned lo 
in the battles of heroic poems, who have sounding 
names given them, for no other reason but that they 
may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but 
being knocked on the head. 

TXavKov re MeSovra re ®epaiXo)(ov re. 

Glaucumqiie, Medontaqiie, Thersilochumqiie.i 

— Virgil. 

The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writis 
by the path of an arrow, which is immediately closed 
up and lost. 

Upon my going into the church, I entertained 
myself wdth the digging of a grave; and saw in 
every shovelful of it that was thrown up the frag- 20 
ment of a bone or skull intermixed with a kind of 
fresh mouldering earth that some time or other had a 
place in the composition of an human body. Upon 

i^'Glaucus, and Medon, and Thersilochiis " ; three warriors 
who fought in behalf of Troy against the Greeks. Virgil 
represents ^neas, the Trojan exile, as meeting them in Hades. 



- ' WESTMINSTEE ABBEY 317 

this, I began to consider with myself what innu- 
merable multitudes of people lay confused together 
under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; how 
men and women, friends and enemies, priests and 

5 soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled 
amongst one another, and blended together in the 
same common mass ; how beauty, strength, and youth, 
with old age, weakness, and deformity, lay undis- 
tinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter. 

10 After having thus surveyed this great magazine of 
mortality, as it were, in the lum.p, I examined it more 
particularly by the accounts which I found on several 
of the monuments which are raised in every quarter 
of that ancient fabric. Some of them were covered 

15 with such extravagant epitaphs that, if it were pos- 
sible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, 
he would blush at the praises which his friends have 
bestowed upon him. There are others so excessively 
modest that they deliver the character of the person 

20 departed in Greek or Hebrew and by that means are 
not understood once in a twelvemonth. In the poetical 
quarter, I found there were poets who had no monu- 
ments, and monuments which had no poets. I. ob- 
served indeed that the present war had filled the 

25 church with many of these uninhabited monuments, 
which had been erected to the memory of persons 
whose bodies were perhaps buried in the plains of 
Blenheim, or in the bosom of the ocean. 

I could not but be very much delighted with several 

30 modern epitaphs, which are written with great ele- 



318 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

gance of expression and justness of thought, and 
therefore do honor to the living as well as to the dead. 
As a foreigner is very apt to conceive an idea of the 
ignorance or politeness of a nation from the turn of 
their public monuments and inscriptions, they should 5 
be submitted to the perusal of men of learning and 
genius before they are put in execution. Sir 
Cloudesley Shovel's monument has very often given 
me great offense : instead of the brave rough English 
admiral, which was the distinguishing character^ of 10 
that plain, gallant man, he is represented on his tomb 
by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, 
and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a 
canopy of state. The inscription is answerable to the 
monument; for instead of celebrating the many 15 
remarkable actions he had performed in the service 
of his country, it acquaints us only with the manner 
of his death, in which it was impossible for him to 
reap any honor. The Dutch, whom we are apt to 
despise for want of genius, show an infinitely greater 20 
taste of antiquity and politeness in their buildings 
and works of this nature than what we meet with in 
those of our own country. The monuments of their 
admirals, which have been erected at the public 
expense, represent them like themselves; and are 25 
adorned with rostral crowns and naval ornaments, 
with beautiful festoons of seaweed, shells, and coral. 

But to return to our subject. I have left the 
repository of our English kings for the contempla- 

1 Note the error in grammar here. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY 319 

tion of another day, when I shall find my mind 
disposed for so serious an amusement. I know that 
entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark 
and dismal thoughts in timorous minds, and gloomy 

5 imaginations ; but for my own part, though I am 
always serious, I do not know what it is to be melan- 
choly ; and can therefore take a view of nature in her 
deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in 
her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I 

10 can improve myself with those objects which others 
consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs 
of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me ; when 
I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate 
desire goes out ; when I meet with the grief of parents 

15 upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; 
when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I 
consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we 
must quickly follow: When I see kings lying by 
those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits 

20 placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the 
world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with 
sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, 
factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the 
several dates of the tombs, of some that died yester- 

25 day, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that 
great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, 
and make our appearance together. C 



IN 2011 A. D. 

[Noc 101. — Addison. Tuesday, June S6, 1711.1 

Eomulus et Liber pater et cum Castore Pollux, 
Post ingentia facta deorum in templa recepti, 
Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella 
Componunt, agros assignant, oppida condunt: 
Ploravere suis non respondere favorem 
Speratum meritis.^ 

— Horace. 

Censure, says a late ingenious author, is the tax a 
man pays to the public for being eminent. It is 
a folly for an eminent man to think of escaping it, 
and a weakness to be affected with it. All the illus- 
trious persons of antiquity, and indeed of every age 5 
in the world, have passed through this fiery persecu- 
tion. There is no defense against reproach but 

1 ' ' The doers of great deeds in times of old, 

For which they now are with the gods enrolled, 
Eoirulus, Bacchus, Castor, Pollux, when 
Taming wild regions and still wilder men, 
Staying the deadly ravage of the sword. 
Allotting lands and building towns, deplored 
That goodly works and noble service done, 
From those they served, such scant requital won." 

— Sir Theodore Martin. 
320 



IN 2011 A. D. 321 

obscurity; it is a kind of concomitant to greatness, 
as satires and invectives were an essential part of a 
Roman triumph. 

If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one 

5 hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. 
If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, 
they likewise receive praises which they do not 
deserve. In a word, the man in a high post is never 
regarded with an indifferent eye, but always consid- 

LO ered as a friend or an enemy. For this reason, persons 
in great stations have seldom their true characters 
drawn till several years after their deaths. Their 
personal friendships and enmities must cease, and 
the parties they w^ere engaged in be at an end, before 

15 their faults or their virtues can have justice done 
them. When writers have the least opportunity of 
knowing the truth, they are in the best disposition 
to tell it. 

It is therefore the privilege of posterity to adjust 

JO the characters of illustrious persons, and to set matters 
right betw^een those antagonists who by their rivalry 
for greatness divided a whole age into factions. We 
can now allow Caesar to be a great man, without 
derogating from Pompey; and celebrate the virtues 

!5of Cato, without detracting from those of Caesar. 
Every one that has been long dead has a due propor- 
tion of praise allotted him, in which whilst he lived 
his friends were too profuse and his enemies too 
sparing. 

According to Sir Isaac Newton's calculations, the 



322 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

last comet that made. its appearance in 1680 imbibed 
so much heat by its approaches to the sun that it 
would have been two thousand times hotter than red 
hot iron, had it been a globe of that metal; and thr.t 
supposing it as big as the earth, and at the same 5 
distance from the sun, it would be fifty thousand 
years in cooling, before it recovered its natural tem- 
per. In the like manner, if an Englishman considers 
the great ferment into which our political world is 
thro^vn, at present, and how intensely it is heated in i( 
all its parts, he cannot suppose that will cool again 
in less than three hundred years. In such a tract of 
time, it is possible that the heats of the present age 
may be extinguished, and our several classes of great 
men represented under their proper characters, ii 
Some eminent historian may then probably arise that 
will not write recentihus odiis^ (as Tacitus expresses 
it), with the passions and prejudices of a conteiri- 
porary author, but make an impartial distribute n 
of fame among the great men of the present age. 2( 

I cannot forbear entertaining myself very often 
with the idea of such an imaginary historian de- 
scribing the reign of Anne the First, and introduci ^g 
it with a preface to his reader, that he is now enteri g 
upon the most shining part of the English stcj\'/. 2!: 
The great rivals in fame will be then distinguislicd 
according to their respective merits, and shine y\ 
their proper points of light. Such an one (says the 
historian), though variously represented by the 

1 ' ' With hates still fresh in mind. ' * 



IN 2011 A. D. 323 

writers of his own age, appears to have been a man 
of more than ordinary abilities, great application, and 
uncommon integrity: Nor was such an one (though 
of an opposite party and interest) inferior to him in 

5 any of these respects. The several antagonists, who 
now endeavor to depreciate one another, and are cele- 
brated or traduced by different parties, will then have 
the same body of admirers, and appear illustrious in 
the opinion of the whole British nation. The deserv- 

loing man, who can now recommend himself to the 
esteem of but half his countrymen, will then receive 
the approbations and applauses of a whole age. 

Among the several persons that flourish in this 
glorious reign, there is no question but such a future 

15 historian as the person of whom I am speaking will 
make mention of the men of genius and learning, 
who have now any figure in the British nation. For 
my own part, I often flatter myself with the honor- 
able mention which will then be made of me; and 

20 have drawn up a paragraph in my own imagination, 
that I fancy will not be altogether unlike what will 
be found in some page or other of this imaginary 
historian. 

It was under this reign, says he, that the Spectator 

25 published those little diurnal essays which are still 
extant. We know very little of the name or person 
of this author, except only that he was a man of a 
very short face, extremely addicted to silence, and so 
great a lover of knowledge that he made a voyage 

30 to Grand Cairo for no other reason but to take the 



324 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir 
Roger de Coverley, a whimsical country knight, and a 
Templar whose name he has not transmitted to us. 
He lived as a lodger at the house of a widow woman, 
and was a great humorist^ in all parts of his life. 5 
This is all we can affirm with any certainty of his 
person and character. As for his speculations, not- 
withs'tanding the several obsolete words and obscure 
phrases of the age in which he lived, we still under- 
stand enough of them to see the diversi'ons and lo 
characters of the English nation in his time: Not 
but that Vv^e are to make allowance for the mirth and 
humor of the author, who has doubtless strained many 
representations of things beyond the truth. For if 
we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we is 
must suppose that women of the first quality used to 
pass away whole mornings at a puppet show: That 
they attested their principles by their patches: That 
an audience would sit out an evening to hear a 
dramatical performance written in a language which 20 
they did not understand : That chairs and flower pots 
were introduced as actors upon the British stage: 
That a promiscuous assembly of men and women were 
allowed to meet at midnight in masks within the verge 
of the court ; with many improbabilities of the like 25 
nature. We must, therefore, in these and the like 
cases, suppose that these remote hints and allusions 
aimed at some certain follies which were then in vogue, 
and which at present we have not any notion of. 
1 Eccentric character. See Glossary. 



IN 2011 A. D. 325 

We may guess by several passages in tlie speculations 
that there were writers who endeavored to detract 
from the works of this author ; but as nothing of this 
nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any 
5 objections that could be made to his paper. If we 
consider his style with that indulgence which we 
must show to old English writers, or if we look into 
the variety of his subjects, with those several critical 
dissertations, moral reflections, 

10 The following part of the paragraph is so much to 
my advantage, and beyond any thing I can pretend 
to, that I hope my reader will excuse me for not 
inserting it. L 



LI 

CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS^ 

IThe Spectator, No. 447. — Addison. Saturday, August 2, 

1712.] 

^rjfJiL iroXv^poviiqv fjLeXirrjv c/x/xevat, cf>tXe' koL St] 
TavTT^v avOpoiTVOLdL reXevTOiaav <f>v(TLV elvai.^ 

There is not a Common- Saying which has a better 
turn of Sense in it, than what we often hear in the 
Months of the Vulgar, that Custom is a second Nature. 
It is indeed able to form the Man anew, and to give 
Mm Inclinations and Capacities altogether different 5 
from those he was born with. Dr. Plot, in his History 
of Staffordshire, tells of an Ideot that chancing to 
live within the Sound of a Clock, and always amusing 
himself with counting the Hour of the Day whenever 
the Clock struck, the Clock being spoiled by some lo 
Accident, the Ideot continued to strike and count the 
Hour without the help of it, in the same manner as he 
had done when it was entire. Though I dare not 
vouch for the Truth of this Story, it is very certain 

1 In this chapter, the editor follows Addison in spelling, 
punctuation, and the use of capitals. 

2 ' ' For Custom of some date, my Friend, forgoes 
Its proper Shape, and second Nature grows." 
326 



CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS 327 

that Custom has a Mechanical Effect upon the Body, 
at the same time that it has a very extraordinary 
Influence upon the Mind. 

I shall in this Paper consider one very remarkable 

5 Effect which Custom has upon Human Nature ; and 
which, if rightly observed, may lead us into very use- 
ful Rules of Life. What I shall here take notice of in 
Custom, is its wonderful Efficacy in making every 
thing pleasant to us. A Person who is addicted to 

10 Play or Gaming, tho ' he took but little delight in it 
at first, by degrees contracts so strong an Inclination 
towards it, and gives himself up so intirely to it, 
that it seems the only End of his Being. The Love 
of a retired or busie Life will grow upon a Man 

15 insensibly, as he is conversant in the one or the other, 
'till he is utterly unqualified for relishing that to 
which he has been for some time disused. Nay, a Man 
may Smoak, of Drink, or take Snuff, 'till he is unable 
to pass away his Time, without it; not to mention 

20 how our Delight in any particular Study, Art, or 
Science, rises and improves in Proportion to the Appli- 
cation which we bestow upon it. Thus what was at 
first an Exercise, becomes at length an Entertainment. 
Our Employments are changed into our Diversions. 

25 The Mind grov/s fond of those actions she is accus- 
tomed to, and is drawn with Reluctancy from those 
Paths in which she has been used to walk. 

Not only such Actions as were at first Indifferent 
to us, but even such as were Painful, will by Custom 

30 and Practice become pleasant. Sir Francis Bacon 



328 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 

observes in his Natural Philosophy, that our Taste is 
never pleased better than with those things which at 
first created a Disgust in it. He gives particular 
Instances of Claret, Coffee, and other Liquours, which 
the Palate seldom approves upon the first Taste ; but 5 
when it has once got a Relish of them, generally 
retains it for Life. The Mind is constituted after 
the same manner, and after having habituated herself 
to any particular Exercise or Employment, not only 
loses her first Aversion towards it, but conceives aic 
certain Fondness and Affection for it. I have heard 
one of the greatest Geniuses this Age has produced, 
who had been trained up in all the Polite Studies of 
Antiquity, assure me, upon his being obliged to search 
into several Rolls and Records, that notwithstanding 15 
such an Employment was at first very dry and irk- 
some to him, he at last took an incredible Pleasure in 
it, and preferred it even to the reading of Virgil or 
Cicero. The Reader will observe, that I have not 
here considered Custom as it makes things easie, but 20 
as it renders tliem delightful ; and though others have 
often made the same Reflections, it is possible they 
may not have drawn those Uses from it, with which 
I intend to fill the remaining Part of this Paper. 

If we consider attentively this Property of Human 25 
Nature, it may instruct us in very fine Moralities. In 
the first place, I would have no Man discouraged with 
that kind of Life or Series of Action, in which the 
Choice of others, or his own Necessities, may have 
engaged him. It may perhaps be very disagreeable so 



CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS 329 

to him at first ; but Use and Application will certainly 
render it not only less painful, but pleasing and 
satisfactory. 

In the second place I would recommend to every 

5 one that admirable Precept which Pythagoras is said 
to have given to his Disciples, and which that Philoso- 
pher must have drawn from the Observation I have 
enlarged upon. Optimum vitce genus eligito, nam 
consuetudo faciei jucundissimum,^ Pitch upon that 

10 Course of Life which is the most Excellent, and Cus- 
tom will render it the most Delightful. Men, whose 
Circumstances will permit them to chuse their own 
way of Life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue 
that which their Judgment tells them is the most 

15 laudable. The Voice of Reason is more to be regarded 
than the Bent of any present Inclination, since by 
the Rule above-mentioned. Inclination will at length 
come over to Reason, though we can never force 
Reason to comply wdth Inclination. 

20 In the third place, this Observation may teach tlie 
most sensual and irreligious Man, to overlook those 
Hardships and Difficulties which are apt to discourage 
him from the Prosecution of a Virtuous Life. The 
Gods, said Hesiod, have placed Lahour before Virtue; 

25 the way to her is at first rough and difficult, hut grows 
more smooth and easie the further you advance in it. 
The Man who proceeds in it, with Steadiness and 
Resolution, will in a little time find, that her Ways 
are Ways of Pleasantness, and that all her Paths are 

BO Peace, ... 

1 ' ' Choose the best sort of life, for use will make it very 
pleasant," 



GLOSSARY 



AND INDEX TO INTRODUCTION 

There are several reasons for this glossary of Addison and Steele's writings. 
(1) Special allusions and proper names need explanation. (2) Many words and 
phrases once perfectly intelligible have gone out of fashion in the last two cen- 
turies. (3) Lilie all well-educated men of their age, Addison and Steele had 
had a far more rigorous training in Latin than in English grammar, and in con- 
sequence introduced Latin Idioms into their works. (4) In common with their 
contemporaries, both writers used to think often about daily life in an abstract 
sort of way very foreign to the modern mind. (5) Finally, both were men of 
affairs as well as men of letters, and often wrote or dictated their essays hurriedly 
and sent them to the press without much revision. 



A.l> juration oatli; an oath dis- 
claiming any belief that the Stuarts 
had any right to the English throne. 
It was required in old times of all 
persons in office and of any others 
whom the magistrates suspected of 
disloyalty to the reigning sovereign ; 
p. 92, 1. 29. 

broad; away from home; p. 140, 
1. 7. 

Absent from; absent minded in re- 
gard to ; p. 187, 1. 10. 

Accidents; attributes; p. 147, 1. 5. 

\cted; actuated; p. 299, 1. S. 

;lddison, Doi'otliy; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 25. 

Addison, Joseph; see Introduc- 
tion, Sections 25-28, 32, 33. 

lEneids; in modern usage, ^neid ; 
p. 257, 1. 19 ; see Virg'il. 

Afore; before; p. 186, 1. 14. 

\ldns; a celebrated Venetian printer 
of the fifteenth century, whence the 
adjective Aldine ; p. 77, 1. 8. 

Alexander tlie Great (356 323, 
B. c.) ; the greatest of Greek con- 
querors ; p. 240, 1. 26. 

Algriers; see under Maliomet. 

dlmanza; a gi-eat defeat, in 1707, 
administered to the British and their 



allies by the French and Spanish ; p. 
157, 1. 26. 

An; no longer used before letters which 
are really consonantal in sound, as 
in an European, p. 153, 1. 9, or an 
one, p. 168, 1. 25 ff. Nor is an now 
used before monosyllables or accent- 
ed syllables beginning with the as- 
pirate h, as in an heap, p. 50, 1. 1. 

Anaereon; an early Greek poet who 
sang the praises of wine. The story 
of his death, referred to by Addison, 
was probably the invention of some 
one with a love of "poetic justice" ; 
p. 196, 1. 4. 

Anjon, Dnlce of; see under 
Louis XIV. 

AnsTV'erable to; in keeping with; 
p. 318, 1. 14. 

Antrnni; Latin for cave; p. 209, 
1. 23. 

Apollo; in Greek and Roman myth- 
ology,- the god of music and poetry ; 
p. 270, 1. 26. 

Apprentice; one bound by law for 
a number of years to serve an em- 
ployer in some trade in exchange for 
bed, board, instruction, and training 
London once contained many such ap- 
prentices, and often they were dis^ 



331 



332 



GLOSSAEY 



orderly. On July 14, 1647, ten 
thousand of them petitioned parlia- 
ment that Charles I be restored. 
Twelve days later, with other riot- 
ers, apprentices stormed parliament 
and forced it to repeal an obnoxious 
law. On Christmas Day, 1647, a 
mob of them decorated a public 
pump with holly because the Puri- 
tans tried to abolish festivities on 
that day ; p. 87, 1. 5. 

Aristotle; a Greek philosopher of 
the fourth century before Christ. The 
rough notes preserved of his lectures 
were taken as an infallible guide on 
art and science through many cen- 
turies of the Christian era. In Ad- 
dison's day, it was still venturesome 
to question his authority on aesthet- 
ics ; p. 22, 1. 8. 

Army; see Introduction, Section 21. 

Arrestetl; in the eighteenth century, 
debtors could be jailed till they paid 
their debts, as Steele, Dr. Samuel 
Johnson, Oliver Goldsmith, and many 
others found out to their cost ; p. 
204, 1. 21. 

Artaxerxes; the name of three old 
kings of Persia ; p. 240, 1. 27. 

Assizes; see Introduction, Section 
18. 

Ang'nstns; (a) also called Augus- 
tus Caesar, first and greatest of 
the Roman emperors. His reign was 
unusually peaceful, prosperous, and 
stable. Literature flourished under 
comrt patronage; p. 72, 1. 20. (b) 
Augustus II, King of Poland; see 
under S'^vecleii, King of. 

Aurora; in ancient mythology, the 
goddess of the dawn ; p. 227, 1. 6. 

Baby; doll; p. 125, 1. 9. 

Bacon, Sir Francis (1561-1626) ; 
the earliest great essayist in Eng- 
land ; noted for his brevity and acute- 
ness. Addison quotes from his Ad- 
vancement of Learning ; p. 52, 1. 25. 

Bagtlat; see under Malioniet. 

Balanced tlie poT\'er of Eu- 
x'ope; see under Louis XIV. 



Ballads; narrative poems, ol 
rude in diction and versificati 
They are more or less lyrical 
form, and, contrary to the supp 
tion of Addison, peculiarly 1 
from any didactic import. T 
originated among the common i 
pie, but whether the ballad is 
composition of an individual or c 
community is disputed. They wt 
and still are to some extent, i 
served by word of mouth. In Ac 
son's day they were also haw: 
about in cheap, printed forms 
no one undertook to prepare j 
print them for educated readers 
til a dozen years after Addiso 
praise of "Chevy Chase." Bef 
the close of the century such a 
mantic interest in old ballads 
veloped that scholars edited th( 
impostors palmed off forgeries 
them and great poets imitated tl 
beautiful touches. Addison ag 
praises ballads in the 74th and 
85th issues of the Spectator ; p. 2; 
see also the Introduction, Section 
and Heroic Poems. 

Bank: of Eng-land; founded 
1G94 under the Whig king, Willi 
III, to further his military policj' 
loans to the government and his cc 
mercial policy by stimulating t 
guiding business enterprise. It 
gan with twenty-four directors & 
fifty-four assistants. It has alw; 
been the supreme financial insti 
tion of England and closely relai 
to the government ; p. 104, 1. 1." 

Basset; a game of cards; p. 234, 
11. 

Beast; a hideous creature descril 
in the thirteenth chapter of Rere 
tion, and associated with the uu 
ber 666. He has been taken 
symbolize the Roman Empire, Fe 
Napoleon, and by some zealous Pr 
estants, the Roman Catholic Chui 
or the papacy. Addison, in his je 
gets the number wrong ; p. 298, 
23. 



GLOSSAEY 



333 



at; beaten; p. 61, 1. 29. 
liemotli; an extraordinary crea- 
ure, described in Job, 40:15-24; p. 
65, 1. 21. 

llarmine; a noted Italian cardi- 
lal of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
■enturies ; p. 198, 1. 27. 
Iliiian ; the town-crier, employed 
shout public and private notices 
hrough the streets ; the name was 
ilso applied to the night-watchman ; 
5. 234, 1. 25. 

ncli; a term in England for judges 
Then sitting officially on a case ; p. 
;6, 1. 14. 

■iieliei'; one of the governors of 
he l7ins of Court (which see under 
jOiidLon and Westiiiimster). 
;iider; see STredeii, Kins' of. 
■vis of Sonthanipton ; in old 
ales, a persecuted stepson who flees 
pagan parts, where his Christian 
ndignation makes him slaughter a 
lundred Saracens at a time ; p. 127, 
. 13. 

ble and Three CroTvns; the 
lame of an inn; p. 299, 1. 24. 
clierstaff, Isaac; see under 
London and l?^estniinster. 
d; old form for Mde; p. 287, 1. 16. 
llets-donx; love-letters; p. 76, 
. 15. 

lis; posters or handbills; p. 299, 
. 13; hills of mortality; official re- 
:urns of deaths, published by 109 
jarishes in and about London ; with- 
n the bills of mortality; within this 
iistrict ; p. 70, 1. 3. 
ack; dark-complexioned; p. 267, 
.. 20. 

aeli Prince, Tlie (1330-76) ; 
the heroic son of Edward III of Eng- 
land ; so-called probably from the 
3olor of his armor ; p. 241, 1. 4. 
anlis of society; an allusion to 
the fourth issue of the Spectator, by 
Steele ; p. 53, 1. 24. 
lenlLeim; a bloody English vic- 
tory over the French and Bavarians 
in 1704. More than 50,000 were 
killed; p. 317, 1. 28; see Introduc- 



tion, Section 25 ; see also Lonis 
XIV. 

BloTv; a display of blossoms ; p. 241, 
1. 26. 

Boilean (1636-1711) ; a French crit- 
ic whose highly finished poem on the 
value of polish, wit, ami good sense 
in poetry for a time determined the 
standards of taste not only in his 
own country but in England as well ; 
p. 71, 1. 17. See also Introduction, 
Section 9. 

Bossn; a seventeenth century French 
critic of epic poetry, now pretty 
much ignored; p. 261, 1. 27. 

Bonrbon; see under Louis XIV. 

Boxes; see Introduction, Section 7, 
note. 

Braclinians ; brahmans ; the heredi- 
tary priests of the Brahman religion 
in India. By the cruelest social re- 
strictions, they maintained their su- 
periority to the other classes of their 
country; p. 203, 1. 4. 

Break; to go bankrupt; p. 83, 1. 11. 

Brede; braid; p. 153, 1. 20. 

Broke; old form for broken; p. 135, 
1. 8. 

Brook's and Heilier; should be 
Brooke and Hellier's ; a noted firm 
of wine merchants who advertised 
regularly in the Spectator. Steele 
and Addison allowed advertisers to 
influence their literary columns ; p. 
194, 1. 8. 

Brntnm fnlinen; a harmless thun- 
derbolt ; mere noise ; p. 269, 1. 22. 

Bnckle; the state of being crisped 
and curled ; p. 231, 1. 4. 

Bng-le; bead; p. 153, 1. 19. 

Burgess; (a) a representative of a 
town or part of a town in the House 
of Commons; (b) one of the govern- 
ing body of a town ; p. 102, 1. 8. 

Button's; see Introduction, Sections 
13, 26. 

C; see Clio. 

Caesar's Commentaries; a 

"puff" for an edition, just published 
by Addison's friend and club-fellow. 



334 



GLOSSARY 



Jacob Tonson, who kept the Specta- 
tor on sale at his shop ; p. 77, 1. 15. 

Cairo 5 like most cultivated gentle- 
men of his day, Addison had trav- 
eled only along fashionable routes to 
a few of the principal places of Eu- 
rope. Plis references to Grand Cairo 
are a favorite joke of his at those 
who went to Egypt to study the pyr- 
amids ; p. 308, 1. 1. 

Ca,lais; a famous French seaport. On 
clear nights its harbor light can be 
seen from the English coast ; p. 110, 
1. IS. 

Calfs; error for calves; p. 284, 1. 9. 

Camilla; see Virg'il. 

Candle snulSer; the employee who 
attended to the candles that served 
to light the theater ; p. 273, 1. 4. 

Canonical lionrs; the legal hours 
for the performance of a marriage 
ceremony in an English parish 
church ; p. 235, 1. 24. 

Canterbury tales; tales told by 
pilgrims on their way to Canterbury 
cathedral ; the phrase is so used for 
the pleasant pilgrims' tales told by 
the fourteenth century ' poet and 
humorist, Geoffrey Chaucer ; finally, 
on account of the length of these, 
any long, tedious tales ; p. 89, 1. 22. 

Catch; a round; especially a humor- 
ous one ; p. 113, 1. 4. 

Catcliecl; once used as freely as 
caught; p. 140, 1. 12. 

Cato; an austere Roman in Caesar's 
time ; see Introduction, Sections 7, 
25. 

Cavaliers; the followers of the 
Stuarts into danger and exile. On 
the restoration of Charles II to pow- 
er, few of them were rewarded for 
their sacrifices. The poverty of the 
rest remained a reproach to the 
king; p. 82, 1, 23. 

Cliairs and flon^er pots; a dig 
at the opera. See Spectators, Nos. 
5, 18, and 22 for an explanation of 
the allusions in the 101st Specta- 
tor; p. 324, 1. 21. 



Chambers; apartments; p. 54, 
10. 

Cliang-e of sex; Addison's sh 
ling, which first bore the face 
Queen Elizabeth, lay concealed whi 
Oliver Cromwell was protector ai 
so escaped being melted and remii; 
ed with shields like svs'ollen breech 
on it, and was reminted under Wil 
iam III with the face of the kii 
on one side; p. 84, 1. 2. 

Character; (a) typography; print( 
characters; p. 77, 1. 21; (b) cha 
acteristic ; p. 62, 1. 23. 

Charing- Cross; see under Lou 
don and Westminster. 

Charles II's reign (1660-85) 
time when gayety of dress and ma: 
ners was much affected ; p. 197, 
14. 

Charterhouse; see Introductio: 
Section 29. 

Cheapen; buy. There were no fix( 
prices in the eighteenth centur; 
The buyer, therefore, always tried i 
beat down the seller ; p. 283, 1. 3. 

Cheapside; see under Londo: 
and W^estminstei*. 

Chelsea; a pleasant suburb on tl 
bank of the Thames ; p. 138, 1. 28. 

Chevalier; see under Civil Wai 

Chid; chided; p. 191, 1. 21. 

Childermas Day; in the religior 
calendar, December 28 commemc 
rates the children slaughtered t 
Herod; see Matthew, 11:16. Add 
son's comment on this seems t 
arise from a temporary confusion i 
his mind; p. 157, 1. 3. 

Child's; see Introduction, Sectio 
13. 

Chocolate Houses; see Introduc 
tion. Sections 12, 13. 

Christian Hero, The; see Intro 
duction. Section 30. 

Chnrch; see Introduction, Sectioi 
19. 

Churchman; a supporter of the au 
thority and legal privileges of th; 
Church of England as against mem. 
bers of independent denominations 



GLOSSAEY 



335 



a high churchman ; a Church of 
England man ; p. 99, 1. 24. 
icero; a famous Roman orator and 
ossayist of the first century after 
Christ; p. 328, 1. 19. 
ircuit; the region over which any 
one court must travel in the hearing 
of cases ; p. 229, 1. 26. 
irciila-tioii of tlie blood; the 
nature of the process by which the 
blood flows from the heart into the 
arteries, then into the veins, then 
back into the heart, making a com- 
plete circuit in less than half a min- 
ute ; fir.^t correctly described by Har- 
vey in 1G2S ; p. 165, 1. 2. 
itizens; see Introduction, Section 
14. 

ity; see under liondon and. 
"Westiiiimster; also see Intro- 
duction, Section 14. 
ivil Wai'; sometimes called the 
Great Reiellion ; a war between King 
Charles I and the adherents of par- 
liament. They were determined not 
to have an absolute monarch. He 
was determined to raise revenue 
without their permission and govern 
without their interference. Relig- 
ious differences intensified the quar- 
rel. Prominent among his f:;llower3 
were those bishops in the Church of 
England who were using harsh meas- 
ures to make its beliefs, its laws, its 
feasts and its ceremonies more like 
those of the Roman Catholic Church. 
In 1646, he was captured; in 1649, 
executed, and England became a 
Commonivea Itli, which rigorously 
suppressed all bishops, and their fa- 
vorite doctrines, feasts, and ceremo- 
nies. The Commonwealth bore hard, 
ion. on many pleasures and amuse- 
ments. (See Prestoyterians.) 
In 1653, Oliver Cromwell assumed 
the title of Lord Protector. In 1660, 
a year and a half after his death, 
the people were glad to welcome 
back the gay and dissolute Charles 
II, who re-established the Church 
of England. This return is known 



as the Restoration. In 1685, he died. 
Three years later his Roman Catho- 
lic successor, James II, so angered 
Protestant England that he was 
forced to flee the kingdom. This is 
known as the Revolution. His Prot- 
estant son-in-law and daughter (Will- 
iam III and Mary) became sov- 
ereigns by the invitation of parlia- 
ment. James II never abandoned 
his claim to the throne. The king- 
dom itself passed on to "William's 
Protestant sister-in-law, Anne, and 
then to her Protestant cousin. Prince 
George of Hanover. But on James's 
death in 1701 his eldest son, James 
Edward, inherited his claim and be- 
came known as the Pretender or, 
sometimes in courtesy and sometimes 
in mockery, as the Chevalier. Ad- 
herents continually plotted for him 
and opponents kept their eye on 
him. As for time-servers, they felt 
much as follows .* 

"God bless the king, I mean the 
faith's defender ; 
God bless — no harm in blessing — 

the pretender ; 
But which preter.der is and which 

is k;- g — 
God bless u.s r.ll ! that's quite an- 
other thing." 

In 1715, his Scotch friends tookarms 
for him. He joined them but fled at 
the first real danger. Meanwhile, 
government agents had taken into 
custody some suspected members of 
parliament. One of the suspected 
members whom they failed to arrest 
started in the extreme north of Eng- 
land an uprising which planned to 
cooperate with rebels in Scotland. 
The less than ninety men with which 
it started had become 1500 when 
they were cooped up in Preston, 
forty miles from Liverpool and forced 
to surrender. Later, Sir CliarJes 
Wills and his superior officer. Lord 
Carpenter, quarreled bitterly over 



336 



GLOSSAEY 



the honors of their capture. See 
also Introduction, Sections 19 and 
20. 

Ciareiidoii, EtlTrard Hyde, 
Earl of; an English statesman, 
and father-in-law of James II. In 
1667, he was obliged to flee to 
France. He wrote a famous historj 
of his own times, an autobiography, 
and an essay on the active and the 
contemplative life ; p. 137, 1. 9. 

Classical Taste; see Introductioa, 
Section 10. 

Clever iipom my legs; nimbly 
upon my legs ; p. 113, 1. 11. 

Clio; "All the papers which I have 
distinguished by any letter in the 
name of the muse Clio were given 
me by the gentleman of whose as- 
sistance I formerly boasted in the 
preface and concluding leaf of my 
Tatlers. I am indeed more proud of 
his long continued friendship than I 
should be of being thought the au- 
thor of any writings which he him- 
self is capable of producing." — 
Steele. This gentleman was Addi- 
son. 

Closet; private room; p. 287, 1. 24. 

Clubs; in the early eighteenth cen- 
tury, informal associations of men 
who gathered on stated occasions at 
some inn or coffee house, usually for 
political chat as well a-j for good fel- 
lowship. The following burlesque 
rules drawn up in one issue of the 
Spectator betray something of their 
character : '"I. Every Member at his 
first evening in shall lay down his 
Two Pence. II. Every Member shall 
fill his Pipe out of his own Box. 
III. If any Member absents himself 
he shall forfeit a Penny for the Use 
of the Club, unless in case of Sick- 
ness cr Imprisonment. . . . VIII. 
If a Member's Wife comes to fetch 
him Home from the Club, she shall 
speak to him without the Door." 
The Glut) ; a fictitious club, invented 
by Steele and Addison to contain 
pleasant types of eighteenth century 



life, including: (a) a kindly old 
country squire, somewhat whimsical 
and rustic. Sir Roger de Coverley ; 
(b) a wealthy Whig merchant. Sir 
Andrew Freeport. His "notions of 
trade" are noble and generous, 
though his favorite motto is a penny 
saved is a penny got; (c) an old 
beau. Will Honeycomb, who tries to 
keep up an appearance of youth by 
the use of paint, powder, and jaunti- 
ness of 'behavior ; wittily described 
in the dedication to Volume 8 of the 
Spectator; (d) a brave army officer, 
Captain Sentry; (e) and a lawyer, 
called the Templar (see Inns of 
Court under London and 
Westminster), more judicious 
in the criticism of literature and the 
drama than learned in the law. For 
the description of the Club, see the 
second issue of the Spectator. 

Coaches; see Introduction, Section 
16. 

Coals; a common English plural; p. 
217, 1. 13. 

Cock; a turn grven to the brim of 
a hat. It was securely fastened. 
Monmouth code; such a turn worn 
in honor of Charles II 's natural son, 
the Protestant Duke of Monmouth. 
In 1685, in an ineffective rebellion, 
he tried to displace the Roman Cath- 
olic, James II, on the throne ; p. 232, 
1. 4. 

Cocoa Tree; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 13. 

Cofi'ee House; see Introduction, 
Sections 12 and 13. 

Commode; a tall headdress made 
of wire, covered with silk or lace ; p. 
223, 1. 14. 

Complication; combination; p. 
121, 1. 10. 

Conceit; quaint turn of thought; 
fantastic bit of wit; p. 104, 1. 13. 

Consort; in music, a combination 
of voices or instruments ; p. 269, 
1. 8. 

Conventicle; in 1664, attendants 
on public religious services, con- 



GLOSSAEY 



337 



ducted not in accordance with the 
Church of England, were made lia- 
ble to seven years of hard labor in 
a foreign colony. Such meetings were 
called conventicles. Under William 
III, tills law was displaced by a 
Toleration Act^ but the hostile term 
conventicle still persisted in use; p. 
72, 1. 18. 

orn; grain of any sort; p. 249, 1. 1. 
ornaro, Liuigi; his book, which 
first appeared in Padua in l-5o8, has 
been often translated and still often- 
pr reprinted; p. 295, 1. 11. 
orneille, Pierre (1606-1684) ; 
generally reckoned in his day the su- 
preme master of French tragedy ; 
surpassed in taste, however, by his 
only serious rival, Jean Racine 
(1639-1699). Either was capable of 
making a declamatory eulogy on 
kings ; p. 71, 1. 17. 
9rresponcleiice; harmony ; 
agreement; p. 154, 1. 11. 
Bueliamt; lying with the body rest- 
ing on the legs and the head lifted 
up; p. 176, 1. 7. 

ftuntry gentleman; see Intro- 
duction, Sections 17 and 18. 
OTiiity sessions; a court for 
criminal cases, meeting in each coun- 
ty four times a year; p. 230, 1. 30; 
see also Introduction, Section 18. 
»veiit Garden; see under Lon- 
don and Westminster. 
Bverley, Sir Roger de; see 
under Clnl>s;see also Introduction, 
Section 23. 

i^wley, Abraham; a fashion- 
able, over-ingenious poet of the gen- 
eration just previous to Addison and 
Steele. "Went to Mr. Cowley's fu- 
neral . . . near an hundred coaches 
of noblemen and persons of quality 
following ; among these all the wits 
Df the town." — Jolin Evelyn; p. 252, 
1. 13. 

.•imp; a game of cards; p. 234, 1, 
11. 

fitic; criticism; p. 253, 1. 4. 
ritics; see Introduction, Section 8. 



Cromwell, Oliver; see under 
Civil War. 

Cross; across; p. 113, 1. 10. 

Crowder; fiddler; p. 252, 1. 28. 

Cumberland; nowt verra good was 
iver born oot a' (outside of) Cum- 
terland used to be a common saying 
among the stubborn peasantry of 
this secluded upland countv ; p. 232, 
1. 21. 

Cupping' and bleeding; so con- 
stantly resorted to by physicians in 
days of old as to arouse the ridicule 
of the wits ; p. 292, 1. 10. 

Custody of messengers; in 
1715, six members of the House of 
Commons were arrested for conspir- 
ing to help the Stuart claimant to 
the throne, called the Pretender, 
against the actual sovereign, George 
I ; p. 100, 1. 6. 

Cut off -tvith a sbilling; disin- 
herited, a mere shilling being left 
one in the will to show that the dis- 
inheritance was intentional ; p. 82, 
1. 13. 

Daeier ; a seventeenth century 
French critic, now chiefly remem- 
bered for his brilliant wife ; p. 264, 
1. 11. 

Daemon; same as genius (which 

see). 

Daily Courant; the only daily 
newspaper in England in the days of 
the Spectator; p. 65, 1. 22; see In- 
troduction, Section 23. 

Day in L,ondon; see Introduction, 
Section 12. 

Day, that great; the Judgment 
Day, described in Matthew 25 :31- 
46; p. 319, 1. 26. 

Death watch; the popular name of 
various insects which make a noise 
like the ticking of a watch and are 
supposed by the superstitious to por- 
tend death; p. 159, 1. 11. 

Delivei*; express; p. 317, 1. 19. 

Diagoras; a Greek philosopher, ac- 
cused of impiety and forced to flee 



538 



GLOSSAEY 



from Athens. He died in Corinth ; 
p. 171, 1. 8. 

Diog-enes; an ancient Greek philos- 
opher, so devoted to the simple life 
that, it is said, he exposed himself 
to all weathers, wore the harshest 
clothing, ate the crudest food, and 
slept in a tub in the open air; p. 
292, 1. 16. 

Dislmrse; reimburse; p. 301, 1. 11. 

Discover; disclose; p. 63, 1. 8; dis- 
covery; disclosure; p. 206, 1 30. 

Diseurs de bonne avemturej 
tellers of good fortune ; p. 299, 1. 12, 

Riss'Tist; quarrel; p. 307, 1. 16. 

Dissentei*; any English Protestant 
who publicly worships according to a 
mode not prescribed by the Church 
of England ; p. 183, 1. 14. 

Distemper; any disease which for- 
merly would have been attributed to 
a disorder of the blood ; p. 279, 1. 
10 ; see Humor. 

Dotoson, Austin; see Introduction, 
Sections 31, note 33. 

Doge; formei'ly the chief magistrate 
of Venice or Genoa ; p. 77, 1. 9. 

Doggett, TSiomas (d. 1721) ; 
praised by Steele as the best of co- 
medians and by another as "an hon- 
est man" ; p. 268, 1. 24. 

Don Belianis; hero of an absurd 
book of chivalry and later of an 
English nursery tale ; p. 127, 1. 5. 

Downs; an anchorage for ships on 
the southeast coast of England ; it 
was protected by hidden sandbars ; 
p. 152, 1. 7. 

Drake, Sir Francis (1540 ?-96) ; 
a seaman under Queen Elizabeth 
who sacked Spanish vessels and vil- 
lages, especially in the Western hem- 
isphere. Much of his booty was gold 
and silver fresh from the mines ; p. 
80, 1. 13. 

Drank:; better, drunk; p. 288, 1. 2. 

DraTS'er; one who draws liquor for 
customers ; p. 107, 1. 27. 

Drink abont; to pass a vessel of 
liquor about and drink from it in 
turn; p. 114, 1. 10. 



Drnry Lane; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 30, note. 

Dryden, Jobn (1629-1700); a 
masculine poet, dramatist, and crit- 
ic, generally accounted by his con- 
temporaries the greatest English 
writer of his time ; p. 196, 1. 10. 

D'Urfey. Thomas (1653-1723) ; 
a man about town who wrote many 
supposedly witty poems and plays, 
not at all worth reading. Steele fol- 
lowed him to the grave and wore the 
watch and chain which D'Urfey be 
queathed to him ; p. 196. 

Dntcb mail; Holland contained th( 
nearest friendly ports to England 
Swift sailing vessels brought mai 
from them over the treacherous Brit 
ish Channel ; p. 54, 1. 5. 

Dntcb taste; as a lo.val Whig, Ad 
dison admired the great Whig Hoi 
lander, William III. He therefor* 
admired Dutch taste, though, ii 
many respects, it was dull and emp 
ty in comparison with that of thi 
Stuart court which it displaced ; p 
318, 1. 19. 

Dnties upon French claret 
protective duties to encourage th( 
consumption and manufacture o 
English ale and so of English hops 
p. 99, 1. 27. 

Dyer's Letter; a newsletter; p 
101, 1. 1 ; see Introduction, Sectioi 
23. 

Eat; (a) ate; p. 190, 1. 3 ; (b 
eaten ; p. 288, 1. 2. 

Edgehill; see under Mai-stoi 
Moor. 

Elbo-»v chair; arm chair; p. 278 
1. 1. 

Elizabeth, Q,neen; during he 
reign (1558-1603), her kingdom wa: 
often enriched with bullion, plun 
dered from Spanish America b: 
Francis Drake and others ; p. 80, 1 
16. 

ElsBCver; better, Elzevir; surnam< 
of a family of famous Dutch printer; 



GLOSSAEY 



33f) 



of the seventeenth century ; p. 77, 
1. 8. 

En^lisli Post; Evening Post; p. 
65, 1. 20. 

Entertain; (a) to interest, to oc- 
cupy the attention of; p. 162, 1. 13. 
(b) to keep or retain in one's serv- 
ice ; p. 140, 1. 5. 

Entertainment; source of inter- 
est ; occupation of the mind ; p. 55, 
1. 9. 

Sntlinsiast; in the eighteenth cen- 
tury, one who mistakenly believes 
himsell to be directed in his actions 
by God ; one who thinks he has di- 
vine inspiration for what he does ; 
p. 49, 1. 12. 

Sntituled; entitled; p. 84, 1. 10. 

i^pliesian Matron; in a tale by 
the cynical Roman, Petronius, and 
often repeated, a widow who while 
weeping at the tomb of her husband 
was captivated by the charms of a 
stranger : p. 150, 1. 19. 

ilqnestrian Statne on tlie 
Pont-lVenf; a statue of the 
French king, Henry IV, erected at 
one of the bridges (ponts) in Paris 
in -1635. It was melted into cannon 
during the French Revolution ; p. 
275, 1. 10. 

iqnipag'e; a comprehensive term 
including one's dress, retinue, and 
establishment ; that part of one's be- 
longings which is used about or in 
the neighborhood of one's person for 
the display of one's rank or wealth ; 
p. 180, 1. 23. Tea equipage; all the 
paraphernalia connected with serv- 
ing tea ; p. 52, 1. 24. 

Essence and orange-flower 
■tvater; cologne; p. 209, 1. 17. 

Istablishment; a settled govern- 
ment or constitution ; particularly, 
the permanence of the Hanoverian 
dynasty (George I, etc.), parliamen- 
tary institutions, and the national 
Church, which seemed to Addison to 
constitute the essentials of law and 
order; p. 98, 1. 10. 



Eng-ene, Prince; see Introduction^ 
Section 21. 

Examiner, TKe ; the weekly organ 
of the Tory government and exceed- 
ingly bitter against the Whigs. Its 
chief editor was the satirist. Dean 
Swift; p. 75, 1. 17. 

Exceeding; exceedingly; p. 284, h 
3. 

Exebange, The; see Introduction. 
Section 14. 

Explain npon; explain; p. 116, 1. 
16. 

Eyre, lords justices in; circuit 
judges ; p. 94, 1. 22 ; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 18. 

Fabins; a Roman general noted for 
the skill with which he could tire 
out an opposing army of superior 
force, by dilatory tactics; p. 277, 
1. 24. 

Factory; a trading station or es- 
tablishment in a foreign country ; p. 
206, 1. 23. 

Fardel; burden; p. 278, 1. 27. 

Fathers; Christian theologians of 
the first five centuries ; p. 223, 1. 1. 

Fello^v of the Royal Society; 
any member of it ; p. 53, 1. 18 ; see 
Royal Society. 

Fielding, Bean Robert; see In 
trdduction, Section 7. 

Fire should fall from lieaT-- 
en; seeKingsI :XVIII :17-40 ; Luke 
IX:51-56; p. 170, 1. 24. 

Flaccus, C. Valerius; a medio 
ere Latin poet, who imitated Virgil ; 
p. 254, 1. 14. 

Flanders; a name once much in 
vogue for the region now occupied 
by Holland and Belgium ; p. 58, 1. 
13. 

Flora; in ancient mythology, the 
goddess of flowers and spring ; p. 
238, 1. 16. 

Followers of Nature; see In- 
troduction, Sections 6, 8. 

Fops; see Introduction, Sections 2, 
4, 7. 



340 



GLOSSAKY 



Forbes, Lord; see Introduction, 
Section 13. 

Franked; until 1840, English post- 
age Avas ten ames what it is today 
and was paid hy the receiver, not the 
sender. Members of parliament and 
high officials, by the use of their au- 
tograph (or frank), could send mat- 
ter free. This they were often asked 
to do for friends ; p. 230, 1. 26. 

Freeholder, Tlie; a freeholder is 
one who owns his own homestead 
and is therefore under obligation to 
no one. To predispose such people 
toward a Protestant king and a par- 
liamentary government and against 
the Roman Catholic pretender, Ad- 
dison issued a paT[>ev, The Freeholder, 
every Friday and Monday from De- 
cember 23, 1715, to June 29, 1716 ; 
p. 91. 

Freeport, Sir AmdreTv; see 
under Clubs. 

Friend of mine; Dean Swift, au- 
thor of Gulliver's Travels; p. 79, 
1. 1. 

Fritli; better, flrtli; any inlet from 
the sea or its tributary tidal rivers ; 
across the frith; across the waters 
that make into the Solway Firth and 
therefore across the Scottish border ; 
p. 95, 1. 18. 

Oalley slave; a captive or criminal 
forced to work at the oar in a great 
rowed vessel. Galleys were used par- 
ticularly on the Mediterranean ; p. 
282, 1. 22. 

•Game laT»^s; see Introduction, Sec- 
tions 17, 18. 

Ganges; a river of India, fifteen 
hundred miles long and in places as 
broad as a small bay ; considered 
sacred by the inhabitants ; p. 203, 
1. 26. 

Gai-raTvay's; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 13. 

•Garter; the badge of the highest or- 
der of English knighthood ; it is a 
ribbon of dark blue velvet, edged 



with gold and worn upon the left 
knee; p. 94, 1. 2. 
Gazette; see Introduction, Section 
30 ; see also London Gazette. 

Gelding; a horse as distinguished 
from a mare and a stallion ; p. 200. 
1. 7. 

Genius, oi* daemon; according to 
ancient superstitions, the attendant 
spirit allotted to a person at his birtb 
to govern his fortunes and determine 
his character. According to some 
traditions, there were supposed to 
be two such spirits, disputing or 
sharing the task between them, one 
evil and the other good ; p. 162, 1. 
12. Places, too, are superstitiously 
believed to have such controlling 
spirits; p. 309, 1. 21. 

Gibbets; see Introduction, Sectior 
16. 

Giles's; see Introduction, Section 13. 

Glasses; a general term for micro- 
scopes, telescopes, magnifying 
glasses, etc. Addison erred in sup- 
posing them to have been invoutec! 
near his time. They have gradually 
evolved from primitive instruments 
of ancient date ; p. 161, 1. 10. 

Golden Fleece; according to ar 
old tale, the marvelous fleece of t 
.winged ram stolen by means of sor 
eery and trickery from a city oi 
Asia Minor by a miscellaneous com 
pany of Greeks ; p. 254, 1. 16. 

Golden number; a number usee 
in calculating the time when Eastei 
will fall ; p. 299, 1. 3. 

Goi'dian knot; in a Greek legend, 
one Gordius tied a knot which could 
not be untied. According to super- 
natural prophecy, he who undid it 
would become master of Asia. Alex- 
ander, afterwards the Great, cut i1 
through with his sword; p. 215, 
1. 22. 

Gospel gossip; one who is always 
talking of sermons, texts, etc. ; p. 
183, 1. 14. 

Gossiping; christening; p. 125, 1 



GLOSSAEY 



341 



Gothic; a term ignorantly applied in 
tlie early eighteenth century to any 
work of art or of letters between the 
fall of the Roman Empire and the 
very recent attempts to imitate 
Greek and Roman taste ; sometimes 
applied even to Shakespeare. Ad- 
dison whimsically uses the term for 
the affected courtier poets of the 
late seventeenth century. "I look 
upon these writers," says Addison 
(Spectator 62) "as Goths in poetry, 
who, like those in architecture, not 
being able to come up to the beauti- 
ful simplicity of the old Greeks and 
Romans, have endeavored to supply 
its place with all the extravagances 
of an irregular fancy" ; p. 252, 1. 5. 

Gotlis and Vandals; barbarians; 
p. 78, 1. 10. 

Gi'and "Vizier; chief minister of 
the Sultan; p. 192, 1. 11. 

Greatcoat; overcoat; p. 64, 1. 17. 

Great Iiorse; war horse or charger; 
p. 101, 1. 14. 

Great Turk; the- Sultan; p. 68, 
1. 8. 

Gx*eciaii, The; see Introduction, 
Section 13. 

Grottoes; see under Topiary. 

Gnai'dian, Tlie; a little daily, like 
the Spectator. It was begun by 
Steele in March, 1713, and ran for 
about thirty weeks; pp. 173, 196. 

Guy of "WarTvick; in old tales, a 
hero who slays giants and dragons 
but rescues lions and ladies. He dies 
of melancholy. His wife follows fif- 
teen days after. 

Their Epitaph 
Under this marble lies a pair. 
Scarce such another in tfie world 

there are. 
Like him so valiant or like her so 

fair; p. 127, 1. 5. 

Habit ; liabits ; costumes or clothes ; 

p. 309, 1. 7. 
Half-a=eroT*^n; two shillings and 

a half ; equivalent to about sixty 

cents; p. 68, 1. 4. 



Halifax, Lord; see Introduction. 
Section 32, note. 

Haymarket; one of the two thea- 
ters in town ; the one devoted to 
opera ; p. 271, 1. 3. 

Headdress; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 5, note. 

Herb-Tvoman ; one who sells herbs ; 
p. 81, 1. 9. 

Hercules; in ancient mythology, the 
god of physical strength and cour- 
age; p. 270, 1. 26. 

Herodotus; an ancient Greek trav- 
eler and historian ; vivid, garrulous ; 
somewhat credulous, but always nat- 
ural ; often called the father of his- 
tory ; p. 169, 1. 13. 

Heroic Poems; narrative poems in 
celebration of heroic characters and 
events, usually of national impor- 
tance. In the earliest times, long 
poems, of this sort developed as fol- 
lows : Among a simple people, leg- 
etids grew up about any striking 
events or characters, magnifying 
them. The ways of nature, such as 
the rising and the setting of the sun, 
also started stories, more or less re- 
ligious, called myths. These legends 
and myths, gathered about some 
heroic achievement, were composed 
finally under the hand of one or more 
poets into a long heroic poem. This 
was not the creation, as Addison and 
his contemporaries thought, of one 
definite purpose. It was a growth. 
Its gods and goddesses were not 
clever literary machinery deliber- 
ately invented by a shrewd poet. 
They, too, were a growth, notwith- 
standing Addison's remarks ; p. 2.53, 
1. 7. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey 
were poems of this character. They 
probably existed much as we know 
them today a good many years before 
the Greeks were involved in wars 
with Persia, and were composed, in 
part at least, of poems rather local 
in their character. The deeds of the 
hero Achilles in the Siege of Troy, 
as told in the Iliad, and the later 



342 



GLOSSARY 



wanderings of Ulysses, as told in the 
Odyssey, were legendary events ; see 
Homer; see Virgil; see Bal- 
lads. 

Hesiod; one of the earliest of the 
Greek poets. He wrote of gods and 
heroes, the origin of the world and 
the quiet pursuits of ordinary life ; 
p. 329, 1. 24. 

Hioliertlirift, Jolin; commonly 
called Tom Hickathrift in old tales, 
an overgrown farm boy, who, when 
he chose, could carry a ton of hay 
on his head or pull up a tree as big 
as a cart ; but what he chiefly loved 
was idleness ; p. 127, 1. 12. 

Hig-li-cliurcli ; laying great stress 
on the authority of the clergy and on 
the power and significance of the 
ceremonies of the Church of Eng- 
land ; p. 101, 1. 29. 

Hipiied; affected by hypochondria; 
in low spirits ; slang in Steele's time 
rs it is today; p. ISS, 1. 6. 

Hippocrates; a Greek philosopher, 
sometimes called the father of med- 
icine : p. 243, 1. 7. 

Hoiiiei*; the ancient Greek poet who 
composed the legends of the Iliad 
and Odyssey in their present form 
(see Heroic Poems) ; recognized 
in the eighteenth century as the 
greatest of all poets. "The source," 
said Dr. Johnson, "of everything in 
and out of nature that can serve the 
purpose of poetry is to be found in 
Homer ; every species of distress, 
every modification of heroic charac- 
ter, battles, storms, ghosts, incanta- 
tions, etc."; p. 90, 1. S; see also 
Introduction, Section 10. 

Honeycomb, ^Vill; see under 
Clubs. 

Honey-montli; a pedantic substi- 
tute for honeymoon ; p. 305, 1. 4. 

Horace; a Latin poet of the time of 
Augustus, famous for wit, urbanity, 
aptness, and discretion. His Art of 
Poetry {Ars Poetica) , according to 
John Conington's translation, gives 
the following characteristic advice : 



Let but our theme be equal to our 

powers. 
Choice language, clear arrangement, 

both are ours. 
Would you be told how best your 

pearls to thread? 
Why just say now what just now 

should be said. 
But put off other matter for today, 
To introduce it later, by the way ; p. 
197, 1. 20 ; see also Introduction, 
Section 10. 
Hudibras; a jeering doggerel poem 
by Samuel Butler (1612-1680), who 
had very unwillingly served as a 
clerk to a Puritan magistrate. Sir 
Hubibras is a Presbyterian who sal- 
lies out, clad in armor, to suppress 
other men's pleasures : 

When civil dudgeon first grew high. 
And men fell out, they knew not 

why, 
When hard work, jealousies and 

fears. 
Set folks together by the ears, 

:t; :}; ^ :}: 

When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded 
With long-eared rout, to battle 

sounded, 
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic. 
Was beat with fist instead of a 

stick, 
Then did Sir Knight abandon 

dwelling 
And out he rode a colonelling ; p. 87, 
1. 21. 

H iimble-do-fvii ; Homildon Hill, in 
the far north of England ; the scene 
of an a Gray between English and 
Scotch in 1402 ; p. 255, 1. 24. 

Hiimor; (1) animal fluid. The four 
cardinal humors of the ancient physi- 
cians were blood, choler (yellow 
bile), phlegm, and melancholy (black 
bile), regarded by them as determin- 
ing by their conditions and propor- 
tions a person's physical and mental 
qualities and disposition ; p. 291, 1. 
24. Hence (2) one's disposition as 
distinguished from that of other 



GLOSSARY 



343 



people, one's mood; p. 202, 1. G; (3) 
oddity of behavior; (4) humors; 
whimsical inclinations, tastes 
founded upon temperament, not upon 
reason. 

HTiiiioi*i$its; persons acting upon 
their OAvn whims or humors rather 
than conventionally ; persons having 
an odd way of their own ; p. 49, 
1. 12. 

HTiJitin§--seat; the way one sits 
a horse Avhen hunting, p. 101. 
1. 17. 

Hydaspes; a rOle taken by Nicolini 
(see Introduction, Section 6) in 
May, 17.10. He is thrown into the 
arena to be devoured by a lion but 
the sight of the woman he loves so 
heartens him that he destroys the 
beast with his naked hand ; p. 271, 
1. 10. 

Hyde Park; see under liondon 
and "W^estmiiister; see also In- 
troduction, Section 30. 

II; see Clio. 

Imperial Majesty, His; see un- 
der Louis XIV. 
Impei'tinemtj irrelevant; p. 54, 

1. 7. 
Indiffiei'ent; (a) ordinary; p. 70, 

1. IS ; (b) immaterial ; p. 158, 1. 23 ; 

(c) impartial; p. 321, 1. 9. 
Inns; see Introduction, Section 16. 
Inns of Court; see under Lion- 

don and "Westminster. 
Instrument of distinction; a 

source of unpleasant distinctions ; p. 

287, 1. 23. 
Ii°is; in Greek mythology, the goddess 

of the rainbow and messenger of the 

gods : 

"Downward the various goddess took 

her flight. 
And drew a thousand colors from the 

light. 

Virgil -.^neid :IV -.1003-1004 ; trans- 
lated by John Dryden ; p. 225, 1. 28. 
Ironside, Nestor; the name as- 
sumed by Steele in writing his papers 



for the Guardian as he assumed the 
name of Isaac Bickerstaff when writ- 
ing his Toilers; p. 178, 1. 21. 

Islington; see under London 
and Westminster. 

Israel and Jndali, History of 
tlie King's of; the Books of 
Kings and of Chronicles. For an il- 
lustration of Addison's point, see 
Chronicles I :XXI :1-17 ; p. 170, 1. 4. 

Jenny Man's; properly, Jenny 
Mann's Tiltyard Coffee house ; p. 
71, 1. 6 ; see also Introduction, Sec- 
tion 13. 

Johnson, Dr. ; see Introduction, 
Section 3. 

Join-Iiaud; (a) handwriting; (b) 
the class in handwriting ; p. 157. 
1. 1. 

Joint stool; a stool made of parts 
by a joiner or cabinet maker ; p. 
287, 1. 22. 

Jonathan's; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 13. 

Jonson, Ben; "Rare Ben Jonson" ; 
author of good comedies, stiff trag- 
edies, and two or three exquisite 
lyrics in the time of Shakespeare ; 
p. 252, 1. 22. 

Journals; see Introduction, Section 
23. 

Jndgment; a token of divine dis- 
pleasure; p. 167, 1. 3. 

Jndgment day; see Matthew 
XXV:31-46; p. 170. 1. 29. 

Jnpiter; the greatest of the Roman 
gods; p. 278, 1. 3. 

Justice of tlie Peace; see In- 
troduction, Section 18. 

Kelly, Captain; see Introduction, 
Section 30. 

Kennels; see Introduction, Section 
2. 

Kine; cows; p. 240, 1. 11. 

King of France's deatli; in 
1712, French circles were greatly 
disturbed by the rumor that various 
recent deaths in the royal family 
were due to poison. From this rumor 



344 



GLOSSAEY 



may have sprung the English report 
of the king's death ; p. 70, 1. 10. 

Kit-cat Clul>; see Introduction, 
Section 25. 

Knig-lit of the Sliire; see Intro- 
duction, Section 18. 

li; see Clio. 

Laced coffiee; coffee with a touch 
of spirits in it ; p 193, 1. 26. 

I^anded Estates; see Introduction, 
Section 15. 

liandiuarks of otir fathers; a 
reference to Deuteronomy 19:14, 
etc., p. 235, 1. 19. 

Laiid's End; the southwestern-most 
point of England, between two hun- 
dred and fifty and three hundred 
miles from London. Exeter is about 
three-fifths of the way toward it ; p. 
303, 1. 2. 

Liarani; call to arms; hubbub; state 
of alarm ; p. 150, 1. 17. 

liate iiigenioiiis author; Dean 
Swift, as much alive in 1711 as Ad- 
dison himself. Addison quotes from 
Swift's Thoughts on Various Sub- 
jects, Moral and Diverting ; p. 320, 
1. 1. 

Liaiisus; see Virgil. 

Letter from a Gentleman; 
such a letter was promised in the 
last paragraph of No. 119 ; p. 229, 
I. 22. 

liCviatlian; a sea beast described 
in Job XLI; p. 163, 1. 16. 

liCTvis; see Louis. 

Ligon, Richard; a True and 
Exact History of the Island 
«»f Barbados, 1st ed., 1657. 
Perhaps Steele's attention was 
drawn to this book by the fact that 
in 1706, he inherited from his first 
wife, Mrs. Margaret Stretch, a 
plantation in the Barbadoes, worth 
over four thousand dollars a year. 
It owed its wealth, of course, to 
slave labor. The book contains the 
following passage: ''This Indian 
dwelling near the Sea- coast, upon 
the Main, an English ship put in to 



a Bay, and sent some of her men a 
shoar, to try what victualls or water 
they could find, for in some distresse 
they were : But the Indians perceiv- 
ing them to go up so far into the 
country, as they were sure they could 
not make a safe retreat, intercepted 
them in their return, and fell upon 
them, chasing them into a Wood, and 
being dispersed there, some were 
taken, and some kill'd : but a young 
man amongst them stragling from 
the rest, was met by this Indian 
Maid, who upon the first sight fell 
in love with him, and hid him close 
from her Countrymen (the Indians) 
in a cave, and there fed him, till 
they could safely go down to the 
shoar, where the ship lay at anchor, 
expecting the return of their friends. 
But at last, seeing them upon the 
shoar, sent the long-Boat for them, 
took them aboard, and brought them 
away. But the youth, when he came 
ashoar in the Barljadoes, forgot the 
kindness of the poor maid, that had 
ventured her life for his safety, and 
sold her for a slave, who was as free 
born as he : And so poor Yarico for 
her love, lost her liberty." The name 
Inh^e, meaning originally cheap tape, 
was a clever invention of Steele's 
for the miserable merchant in stuffs 
wlio figures in the story ; p. 152, 1. 1. 

Lillie, Charles; a perfumer and 
agent for the Tatler and Spectator; 
p. 180, 1. 24, 

Lion anel the man; one of La 
Fontaine's fablesj. It was also re^ 
counted in Lord Shaftesbury's 
"Characteristics" the same year 
with the Spectator; it was most 
vividly told in 1851 by Cardinal 
Newman in his first lecture on the 
Present Position of Catholics in 
England; p. 151, 1. 5. 

Lion -^vill not hurt a virgin; 
out of deference to the Virgin Mary ; 
an absurd piece of monkish natural 
history in medieval times ; p. 272, 
1. 8. 



GLOSSARY 



345 



Jist; enlist; p. 82, 1. 2; see Intro- 
cluction, Section 21. 

iloyd's Coffee liouse; see Intro- 
duction, Section 13. 

joaden.; loaded or laden; p. 280, 
1. 2. 

iOmbard Street; see under Lon- 
don and Westminster. 

iOndon and Westminster; 
legally two municipalities, though 
separated only by a small arch called 
Temple Bar. Close to this bar, in 
Sheer or Shire Lane, was supposed 
to live the quaint bachelor, Isaac 
BickerstafC, who, it was pretended, 
wrote the Tatler papers. All about 
him were coffee houses and taverns. 
Toward the West, lay Westminster 
or the Town. It contained all the 
smart residences, the parks, West- 
minster Abbey, the only two theaters, 
and the courts of law. (The term 
Westminster was sometimes used to 
mean the Courts, the Judiciary, or 
the Legal Profession.) Within the 
boundaries of Westminster, parlia- 
ment met and on its Western out- 
skirts was the Queen's palace. To 
the East of Temple Bar, lay Old 
London or the City, with its busy, 
money-making Citizens, the jest of 
men of birth. Here were found, to- 
gether with much that was drab and 
petty, ships that brought merchan- 
dise at profit, the great Bank of 
Bng'land (which see), the Royal 
Exchange, and Lomiard Street, as 
famous in Europe as Wall Street is 
in America; p. 51, 1. 8; Cliaring' 
Cross ; a center of busy traffic in 
the Town. "The full tide of human 
existence," said Dr. Johnson, "'is 
at Charing Cross" ; p. 71, 1. 14. 
Clieapside; in the old city of 
London, a street of busy shops and 
the region surrounding it. It also 
contained dwellings, among them the 
Lord Mayor's substantial rersidence; 
p. 69, 1. 10. Covent Garden; 
called by Steele, "the heart of the 
Town" ; full of fruit shops, theater- 



goers, and the world on the wing ; 
p. 71, 1. 14. Hyde Pai-k; a 

park of over six hundred acres oa 
the western outskirts of the Town. 
It had retired spots, well adapted 
for dueling in the early morning. 
Here on November 15, 1712, the 
Duke of Hamilton killed the in- 
veterate duelist. Lord Mohun, and 
was in turn treacherously stabbed, 
so it was said, by Lord Mohun's 
second ; p. 120, 1. 8. Inns of 
Court; the four Inns of Court (p. 
87, 1. IS) in London were (and in- 
deed, still are) four societies or 
colleges of lawyers and law-stu- 
dents, which had the sole right of 
conferring the degree of barrister at 
law. These four luns were named, 
from the halls of residence and meet- 
ing places of their members. Lin- 
coln's Inn and Gray's Inn (anciently 
belonging to the Earls of Lincoln 
and Gray) were the one in the* City 
and the other in the Town ; and the 
Inner and Middle Temple (once the 
property of the Knights Templar) 
were close to Temple Bar. A mem- 
ber of either the Inner of Middle 
Temple was called a Templar; p. 
53, 1. IS. New Inn was attached to 
the Middle Temple. Pleasant walks 
and gardens were connected with 
these Inns. Their government was 
In the hands of their senior mem- 
bers, called Benchers; p. 87, 1. IS. 
Isling'ton; a modest suburb two 
miles from St. Paul's Cathedral. 
"Men who frequent coffee houses 
are as pleased to hear of a 
piebald horse that has strayed out 
of a field near Islington as of a 
whole troop that have been engaged 
in any foreign adventure" ; Spceta- 
tor 452; p. 192, 1. 5. Mall, Tbe; 
a fashionable walk in St. James's 
Park, lined on one side with "good- 
ly elms," on the other by gay, flow- 
ering limes ; p. 66, 1. 7. Paxil's 
Clinrcliyard ; St. Paul's Church- 
yard ; a busy area, lined with sta- 



3^6 



GLOSSARY 



tioners' and printers' shops, etc., 
surrounding St. Paul's Cathedral and 
its burial ground; p. 71, 1. 30. 
Ring-, Tlie; a fashionable resort 
in Hyde Park for promenaders and 
horsemen; p. 184, 1.15. St. 
James's; the route to the Queen's 
palace ; lined with polite residences, 
smart coffee houses, and various re- 
sorts of fashion; p. 69, 1. 8. St. 
James's Park; a favorite but 
not fashionable rendezvous for lovers 
and others where one saw cows in 
the meadow and birds on the lake; 
p. 64, 1. 12. Smitlifield; a 
square famous for its cattle market 
and cattle fairs. "Here I see in- 
stances of a piece of craft and cun- 
ning that I never dreamed of, con- 
cerning the buying and selling of 
horses." Peinj>i ; p. 69, 1. 12. 
ToT5'er, Tlie; an ancient and 
gloomy mass of buildings in Old 
London, used as a fortress, a prison, 
and a museum. From 1252, when 
Henry III of England became pos- 
sessor of a white bear, until 1830, 
it caged a few wild animals from 
foreign parts for the pleasure of the 
populace. This was a source of 
many jests among the wits. Per- 
haps the reference to the tiger on 
page 271 is one of these witticisms. 
Westminster Abbey; here 
the most celebrated of the English 
dead are buried together with others 
whose fame was but ephemeral. The 
Poets' Corner contains the tombs 
among others of Chaucer, Spenser, 
Ben Jonson, and Dryden. Among 
the royal personages commemorated 
in the Abbey are Queen Elizabetli 
and Mary, Queen of Scots, whom she 
executed, Richard II, murdered in 
the reign of Henry IV, and Edward 
V, slain by Richard III; p. 315, 1. 
2. Sixty-five years after Addison 
wrote of the Abbey, Dr. Johnson 
asserted that he would never consent 
to disgrace its walls with an En- 
glish inscription. To both Addison 



and Johnson, as to all their learnei 
contemporaries, Latin seemed to 
proper language for epitaphs. Fo 
other accounts of the Abbey, see Ad 
dison's 829th issue of the Spectator 
Washington Irviug's Sketch liook 
Oliver Goldsmith's Citizen of th( 
World and Charles Lamb's Letter o 
Elia to Robert Southey. Esq 
W^estminster Hall; a sp;:ciou: 
hall, 290 feet by 68, in which th( 
law courts met. Part of the spac< 
they did not use was devoted t( 
the stalls of booksellers, law-sta 
tioners, and other small shop keep- 
ers ; p. 81, 1. 18. 
London Gazette; "the most cau- 
tious of all the gazettes" ; said tc 
insert "no news but what is cer- 
tain" ; published Mondays, Thurs 
days, and Saturdays ; p. 100, 

1. 27. 

London Prentice; see Introduc 
tion. Section 9. 

Lotteries; although in 1699 parlia- 
ment had declared all lotteries to be 
public nuisances, in 1710 and again 
in 1711 it arranged to borrow 
£1,500,000 (about $7,500,000) by 
means of one. Each ticket was to 
cost £10. In thirty-two years every- 
one would get back his money and 
meanwhile get 6 per cent a year. 
In addition, over £400,000 were te 
be divided into prizes, payable also 
in thirty- two years, with the same 
rate of interest. Schoolboys did 
the drawing. "The jackanapes," 
says Dean Swift, "gave themselves 
such airs in pulling out the tickets 
and showed white hands open to the 
• company to let us see there was no 
cheat" ; p. 297. 

Louis XIV; called the Bourbon be- 
cause of his family surname and Le 
Grand Monarque because of the mag- 
nificence of his reign. He was king 
of France from 1643, when he as- 
cended the throne at five years of 
age, until his death in 1715. In 
1661, he took the management of the 



GLOSSARY 



347 



government into his own hands. 
There were at least five reasons why 
his reign produced a great impres- 
sion throughout Europe. (a) He 
centered the wealth, the fashion, 
and the culture of the kingdom about 
his court. Moliere, Boileau, and the 
other great writers whom he encour- 
aged by his bounty set the literary 
standards for Europe, (b) He built 
up great industries and commercial 
enterprises with no regard to the 
comfort or health of those employed 
in them. In this, too, he was imi- 
tated, particularly by the practical 
"Whig statesmen under William III, 
Queen Anne, and the Georges, (c) 
He determined to enlarge the bound- 
aries and increase the national 
power of France by conquests on sea 
and laud. He invaded Belgium and 
Germany, tried to make the Medi 
terranean a French sea, and got all 
the transatlantic colonies and com- 
merce possible, (d) In 1713, after 
twelve years of bloody war (the War 
of the Spanish Succession), he put 
his grandson, the Duke of Anjou, on 
the Spanish throne against the 
claims of his Imperial Majesty, the 
Emperor Leopold of Austria, and his 
successors, (e) Louis XIV cham- 
pioned the cause of Roman Cathol- 
icism throughout Europe, and in 16S5 
forbade the exercise of the Re- 
formed (or Protestant) Religion in 
France, and the education of chil- 
dren in the Protestant faith. Louis's 
ambition Involved him in war not 
only with the Protestant powers of 
England and Holland but with some 
Catholic powers as well, who were 
determined that no one nation 
should gain a dangerous predomi- 
nance over all the others. This ef- 
fort on their part they called "main- 
taining the balance of power"; p. 
67, 1. 26. As a result of these wars, 
England, in 1713, found herself the 
chief sea power in Europe ; pp. 57- 
62. 



LiOuvre; an imposing mass of public 
buildings in the center of Paris, 
partially occupied by works of art ; 
in Addison's day it also contained 
rooms assigned by the Crown to 
men of letters and of learning ; p. 
77, 1. 1. 

Lncian; a deft and sprightly Greek 
wit of the second century after 
Christ, who rallied the philosophers 
and burlesqued the gods ; p. 236, 
1. 7. 

Magrazine; store or store-house; p. 
89, 1. 28. 

Maliomet (571?-632); better, Mo- 
hammed ; among the Christians of 
the eighteenth century universally 
believed to be an impostor who made 
use of his epileptic fits to dupe his 
followers into believing him a proph- 
et of God. Addison confuses his 
birthplace, Mecca^ with his place of 
burial, Medina. Mecca, to which 
Mohammedans (Moslems) flock in 
pilgrimage and from which all Chris- 
tians are jealously excluded, contains 
a stone, possibly meteoric, which 
may have led to Addison's story on 
p. 297, 1. 12. It is a story, says Bayle's 
famous eighteenth century dic- 
tionary, which makes the "followers 
of Mahomet" "laugh when they hear 
Christians assert it as a fact." Ad- 
dison evidently gathered his ideas of 
Mohammedans from ideas current 
in his day and a hasty reading 
of miscellaneous books. The follow- 
ing are four of the sources for his 
impressions: (a) The Frenchman, 
Antoine Galland, introduced the Ara-^ 
tian Nights' Entertertainments to 
Europe by very free translations and 
adaptations, which ran from 1704 to 
1712. It was through these, prob- 
ably, that Addison learned about the 
chief scene for these stories, the 
rich Mohammedan city and province 
in Asia, called Bagdad (rather than 
Bagdat) ; p. 308, 1. 12. (b) Sir 
Paul Rycaut, member of the Royal 



348 



GLOSSAEY 



Society (which see), iu 1668, 
published an account of the Turkish 
Empire, ^Yhich contained the facts 
he had carefully accumulated during 
five years' residence in Constanti- 
nople. Will Honeycomb's impres- 
sion to the contrary (p. 201, 1. 6), 
he nowhere implies that the Turks 
believe in the transmigration of the 
soul, and, though they are tender to 
animals, he finds them peculiarly 
cruel to human beings, (c) It was 
a matter of common notoriety in 
Addison's day that Algiers (p. 201, 
1. 11) and Morocco, on the African 
coast of the Mediterranean, had 
long been nests of Mohammedan pi- 
rates who preyed on Christian ship- 
ping and shamefully abused all 
Christian captives till they were ran- 
somed. TJie Sultan or King of Mo- 
rocco (p. 226, 1. 4) ; from 1672 to 
1727 was Ismail the Bloodthirsty, 
noted for his ability, his vitality, 
and the variations in his dress, which 
he changed according to his mood. 
"Green was his favorite, white the 
most promising of good behavior, yel- 
low was fatal." (d) The hatred 
which Christians early felt for Mo- 
hammedans has left its traces in 
many absurd stories that grew 
cruder and cruder and more and more 
childish, till they reached the penny 
books that were hawked about among 
the people. The most absurd of 
these stories is perhaps the London 
Prentice ; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 9. 

Main; (a) the open sea along a coast 
line; (b) a coast; p. 152, 1. 22. 

Majesty, Her; Queen Anne, who 
reigned from 1702 to 1714; p. 57, 
1. 11 ; His Majesty; George I, who 
reigned from 1714 to 1727; p. 98, 
1. 1. ■ 

Mall, Tlie; see under liondon 
and W^estniinster. 

Manor, Loi'd of the; chief land- 
ed proprietor of a community ; the 
squire; lady of tlie manor ; his wife; 



p. 231, 1. 17; see Introduction, Sec 
tions 17, 18. 
March 13, 1710-11; until 1752 
the legal year began in Englan 
March 25, though the customar; 
reckoning began January 1. Betwee; 
these days, two dates are, therefore 
often given, the first the legal o 
"old" style, the second the popula 
or "new" ; p. 51. 
Marg-arita; Francesca Mai-gariti 
de I'Epine ; an Italian opera singe 
of the day; p. 132, 1. 11. 
Marlborough, Dxilie of; th' 
most brilliant, handsome, avaricious 
and unscrupulous English general o; 
his time; like Addison and Steele, j 
Whig; p. 241, 1. 11; see Introduc 
tion. Sections 21 and 25. 
Marston Moor (1644) ; Naseb:^ 
(1645) ; Edg-ehill (1642) ; bat 
ties in the English Civil "W'ar 
two total defeats for the king', 
forces and one drawn battle ; pp 
87-89. 
Martial; a social "climber" and epi- 
grammatic poet of the early Romar 
Empire; p. 252, 1. 12. 
Maslied; masquerades with maskec 
faces were common in Addison's 
day; p. 206, 1. 15. 
Master; captain; p. 109, 1. 7. 
Matches; in our sense of the term, 
not known until the nineteenth cen- 
tury ; in Addison's day, pieces of 
cord, cloth, paper, or wood which had 
been dipped in melted sulphur and 
could be easily lighted ; p. 1S2, 1. 19. 
Medley, The; a Whig organ started 
to combat the Tory Examiner ;^i%Qle 
and Addison contributed to it; p. 
75, 1. 17. 
^leeting'-honse; a Protestant 
place of worship not connected with 
the Church of England; p. 102, 1. 
23 ; see Conventicle. 
Men of Sense; men pleased with 
the growing reasonableness of their 
age. With John Dryden they could 
say: "Is it not evident in these 
last hundred years . . . that 



GLOSSAEY 



349 



more useful experiments in philoso- 
phy [physics] have been made, more 
noble secrets in optics, medicine, 
anatomy, astronomy discovered, than 
in all these credulous and doting 
ages from Aristotle to us? So true 
it is that nothing spreads so fast as 
science when rightly and generally 
cultivated." Men of sense controlled 
their emotions, conventionalized 
their behavior, and aimed to be al- 
ways normal, usual, and judicious; 
p. 106, 1. 21 ; see also Royal 
Society. 

en of Taste; see Introduction, 
Sections 8, 9, 10, 11. 
enzikofif, Prince (d. 1729) ; a 
favorite of the Russian Czar, Peter 
the Great ; he was brutal, versatile, 
and corrupt ; p. 66. 1. 27. 
ei'cer; a retail drygoods merchant; 
p. 54, 1. 26. 

ei-ry - tlionglit; wish-bone ; p. 
158, 1. 27. 

etliinlis; it seems to me; p. 124, 
1. 18. 

itldle Temple ; see Inns of Court 
imder London and Westmin- 
ster. 

ilton, John (1608-74) ; "the first 
of our English poets," says Addison, 
who "in the greatness of his senti- 
ments triumphs over all the poets 
, . . Homer only excepted." Addi- 
son devoted the Spectator for every 
Saturday from January 5 to May 3, 
1712, to discussing Paradise Lost. 
The Tatler quotes the opening lines 
of Book V (p. 238) and Book IX: 
445-451 (p. 240). The eloquent 
spirit on p. 90 is the fiend Belial ; 
Par. Lost, 11:113. 
irandola; an Italian town on the 
road from Bologna to Verona. It 
had dukes of its own from 1619 to 
1710; p. 66, 1. 27. 
;oliere (1622-1673) ; a master of 
clear, logical, polished, French com- 
edy ; p. 251, 1. 12. 
[onnionth; see under Cock. 



Monstrous pair of Ijreeeliesj 
see under Cliange of sex. 

Morocco; see under Maliomet. 

3Ioses's serpent; should be Aar- 
on's. Exodus, VII:8-12; p. 52, L 
27. 

3Iotlier Cob's Mild; probably 
some malt drink sold as a quack 
medicine ; p. 192, 1. 6. 

Mrs.; abbreviation for "mistress," 
formerly applied as a title of re- 
spect to any woman or girl, whether 
married or unmarried ; p. 122, 1. 23. 

3Incro; in zoology, a technical term 
for a sharp point ; p. 215, 1. 16. 

Mnff ; see Introduction, Section 4. 

Mnscovy; Russia; p. 53, 1. 4; see 
under Siveden, Kins' of. 

3Iystery; a bookish term for an art 
or trade ; p. 75, 1. 14. 

Naseby; see uuder Marston 
Moor. 

IVatnre; normal human nature; nor- 
mal feelings ; see Introduction, Sec- 
tions 0, 8. 

Aavy; see Introduction, Section 21. 

Nemesis; in ancient mythology, the 
goddess of retribution or vengeance ; 
p. 168, 1. 12. 

Nero; commonly remembered as the 
cruelest of the Roman Emperors ; p. 
72, 1. 20. 

Nestor; the most venerable of all the 
Greeks pictured in Homer's Iliad ; p. 
90, 1. 8. 

NeTT Forest; see under William, 
tbe Conqueror. 

New Inn; see Inns of Court under 
London and Westminster. 

Newmarket; a famous English race 
course ; p. 196, 1. 16. 

Neivsletter; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 23. 

NeT*^spapers; see Introduction, 
Section 23. 

Newton, Sii* Isaac; see under 
Royal Society. 

Nicolini; see under Hydaspes; 
also see Introduction, Section 6. 



350 



GLOSSAEY 



Nigrlit in London; see Introduc- 
tiou, Section 3. 

Nonconformist; any English 
Protestant not conforming to tlie 
practices of the Church of England ; 
p. 81, 1. 11. 

Nonjux'ors; when William and 
Mary, in accordance with the choice 
of parliament, ascended the throne 
in 1689, four hundred of the clergy 
refused to take the oath of alle- 
giance to the new sovereigns, on the 
ground that Mary's father, James II, 
was still, by divine right, the head 
of the Church and the State. Al- 
though he was a Roman Catholic, 
they tried to maintain a Protestant 
church with him as its head. They 
were called nonjurors ; p. 72, 1. 17. 

Non-resistance; same as pas- 
sive olbedienee (which see) ; p- 

95, 1. 2. 

North; about the Baltic Sea; p. 65, 
1. 17 ; see under g-^veden, Kins' 

- of. 

Nortlianiptonsliire; an English 
county, at its nearest point fifty 
miles from London ; p. 262, 1. 24. 

Nortlinniberland; this northern- 
most shire or county of England suf- 
fered severely by border raids in the 
old days when England and Scotland 
were different countries and perpetu- 
ally at war ; p. 255, 1. 13. 

O; see Clio. 

Occasional conformity; see In- 
troduction, Section 19, note. 

Occult sciences; masses of super- 
stition regarding supposed magic 
powers in the star s, in metals, 
spells, etc. ; p. 203, 1. 8. 

October; ale brewed in October; p. 

96, 1. 9. 

Offices; services; duties or func- 
tions; p. 121, 1. 3. 

Officiously; attentively; p. 278, 1. 
20. 

08"le, Jolm; a seventeenth century 
roisterer ; p. 87, 1. 20. 



Oldiield, Mrs.; see Introductior 

Section 7, 

Olympic grames; every fou 
years, athletes from the variou 
cities and states of Greece gathere 
at Olympia for contests that rouse 
the interest of the whole Gree 
race; p. 196, 1. 13. 

Open-breasted; with the coa 
open so as to display a fine shir 
and a m.anly and youthful indiffei 
ence to tlie weather ; p. 126, 1. 2. 

Opei-a; see Introduction, Section 6 

Ordinary (noun) ; a table d'h5t 
meal; p. 81, 1. 17. 

Ordinary (adj.); ordinarily; p 
178, 1. 1. 

Orplieus; according to an ancieu 
Greek story, a hero who couL 
charm birds, beasts, and even tree 
and stones with the music of hi 
lyre; p. 272, 1. 4. 

Os cribriforme; a sieve-like bon; 
plate ; through it passes the nervi 
connected with smelling; p. 211, 1 
1. 

Out of ox'der; not well; p. 202, 1 
16. 

Ovid; a Latin writer of amator: 
verse. His Art of Love is full o 
figures drawn from the sea. I 
also contains this passage (see H 
T, Riley's translation) : "What an 
I to say on clothing ? . . . Lo ! then 
is the color of the sky at a tim( 
when the sky is without clouds anc 
the warm south wind is not sum 
moning the showers of rain" ; p 
226, 1. 19. 

Oxford; Oxford University; p. 182. 
1. 9. 

Pjicket-boat; a boat running a1 
regular intervals between ports, foi 
the conveyance of mails, passengers, 
and freight; p. 306, 1. 24. 

Pactolus; a small river of Asia Mi- 
nor, celebrated for the gold to be 
found in its bed of r^and ; p. 181, 1. 
14. 



GLOSSAEY 



351 



iPamplileteers; see Introduction, 
Section 22. 

Paper; in Addison's day, composed 
of linen rags made into pulp by ma- 
chinery and shaped into paper by 
hand with the use of molds and 
sheets of felt. The manufacture was 
introduced into England with the 
Whig revolution of 1688; p. 74, 1. 
17. 

Pai'liament mam ; member of par- 
liament ; p. 230, 1. 27. 

Particular; (a) exceptional; p. 
144, 1. 2; (b) distinctive; p. 168, 
1. 4. 

Particularity; (a) distinctive 
characteristic; p. 106, 1. 7; (b) fas- 
tidiousness ; p. 148, 1. 1. 

Parts; abilities; p. 106, 1. 24. 

Passive obedience, doctrine 
of; the doctrine, once held by ex- 
treme Tories, that resistance to 
one's king, whether as head of the 
Church or of the State, is always 
wrong. Since William, Mary, Anne, 
and all the Georges owed their posi- 
tion to the fact that James II had 
not been passively obeyed, this doc- 
trine was not at all relished by their 
ardent supporters ; p. 96, 1. 30. 

Paste; a sweet cake or dainty made 
of dough ; p. 147, 1. 16. 

Patches; in the 81st Spectator, 
not printed in this volume, Addison 
pretends that Whigladies "patched" 
on one side of the face and Tory 
ladies on the other; p. 324, 1. 18; 
see Introduction, Section 5. 

Paul's Churcliyard ; see under 
London and "Westminster. 

Pay liis attendance; attend; p. 
268, 1. 13. 

Pensioner of Holland; the 
chief magistrate of any Dutch city; 
p. 77, 1. 9. 

PeriTi-igs; same as Wigs (which 
see). 

Person; personal appearance; p. 
144, 1. 6. 

Perukes; seme as Wigs (which 
see). 



Petronius; see under Ephesian 
Matron. 

Petticoats; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 5. 

Pliilaritlimus ; from the Greek for 
love and arithmetic; p. 62, 1. 26. 

Pliilipater; from the Greek for 
love and father; p. 142, 1. 21. 

Pliilomot; should be ^iejwo*; brown- 
ish-yellow; p. 225, 1. 6. 

Pliilosophy; science ; especially 
physics; p. 161, 1. 7. 

Pliysic; medicine; p. 291, 1. 6. 

Pindar; an ancient Greek poet vho 
sang the praises of the victors at 
the great athletic contests of his 
day, "Can anything be more ridic- 
ulous than for men of sober and 
moderate fancy to imitate this poet's 
way of writing in those monstrous 
compositions which go among us un- 
der the name of Pindarics?'" — Spec- 
tator, No. 160; p. 196, 1. 18. 

Pineal gland; a little portion of 
the brain, shaped like a pine-cone, 
the function of which is not known. 
Old writers liked to consider it the 
seat of the soul; p. 209, 1. 15. 

Pit; orchestra seats; p. 225, 1. 11. 

Plant; a sapling used as a cudgel or 
staff; p. 267, 1. 21. 

Plantation; any large group of 
planted trees ; p. 248, 1. 26. 

Play, Tlie; see Introduction, Sec- 
tions 7-11. 

Pliny ; Pliny the Younger ; a literary' 
man of the early Roman Empire, 
who took fastidious pains over his 
letters with a view to their publica- 
tion. Three of them appear in the 
149th issue of the Tatler; p. 129, 
1. 9. 

Plot, Robert; a somewhat cred- 
ulous antiquary of the seventeenth 
century ; for some time secretary 
of the Royal Society (which 
see) ; p. 326, 1. 6. 

Plume of feathers; "You must 
doubtless have observed that great 
numbers of young fellows have for 
several months last past taken upon 



352 



GLOSSARY 



them to wear feathers." — Spectator, 
No. 319 ; p. 215, 1. 3. 

Plutarcli; a Greek moralist. Our 
ideas of Roman virtue are largely 
derived from his idealistic biogra- 
phies of Roman men of action ; p. 
169, 1. 14. 

Point of Tvar; a strain of mar- 
tial music; p. 126, 1. 21. 

Poland; in 1710, an independent 
kingdom, governed by a king who 
was elected by the nobles ; p. 53, 
1. 4 ; see Sweden, Kins' of. 

Polite; (a) polished, cultured, re- 
fined; (b) recognized as appealing to 
cultivated taste; p. 240, 1. 13; (c) 
civilized and fashionable ; p. 76, 1. 
23. 

Pope, Alexander; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 26. 

Porto-Carrero; a cardinal arch- 
bishop of Toledo in the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries ; p. 198, 
1. 27. 

Portsniontli; England's greatest 
naval station ; p. 94, 1. 13, 

Post; (a) a post placed in the street, 
to which notices could be affixed ; 
p. 120, 1. 14; (b) mail; p. 100, 1. 
26. 

Post-l>oy; (a) postman; p. 100, 1. 
23 ; (b) a journal of the time pub- 
lished every other day, given to re- 
porting news as hearsay ; p. 65, 1. 
25. 

Postman; a journal of the time, 
edited by a French Protestant, with 
some reputation for its foreign news 
and correspondence; p. 63, 1. 11. 

Ponnd; an English unit of money, 
worth about five dollars ; p. 89, 1. 2. 

PoAvell; see Introduction, Section 6. 

Precise; exacting and unadaptable; 
p. 147, 1. 4. 

I'rentice; see Apprentice. 

Preparation sermons; sermons 
in preparation for the communion 
service; p. 183, 1. 16. 

Presbyterians; one of a body of 
Christians who disbelieve in bish- 
ops and are governed by assemblies 



or convocations in which all tht 
clergy (or presbyters) have an equal 
voice. When they secured power ic 
the Civil War (which see) thej 
made themselves obnoxious by theii 
rigid censorship of pleasures and 
amusements. Such a Tory squire at 
Addison describes in the Freeholder 
might call even a bishop a Presby- 
teiian if the bishop were a rigid 
moralist; p. 102, 1. 26. 

Preserving tlie game; see In- 
troduction, Sections 17 and 18. 

Preston; see under Civil War. 

Prevented; anticipated; p. 183, 
1. 3. 

Pricked dances; dances according 
to set, printed music. Musical notes 
at one time were pricked rather than 
printed ; p. 209, 1. 28. 

Prince of Hesse; a German prince, 
more or less closely allied with the 
English in their wars against Louis 
XIV of France; p. 241, 1. 15. 

Prints; periodicals; p. 53, 1. 1. 

Proficient; proficient man; p. 185, 
1. 15. 

Progress; a journey made in state 
by some royal personage or high 
dignitary ; p. 70, 1. 8. 

Projector; promoter; p. 224, 1. 22. 

Prne; see Introduction, Section 32, 
note. 

Punch and Jndy; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 6. 

Pni'l; a medicine of malt liquor with 
wormwood and aromatics ; p. 193, 
1. 21. 

Pyrrlius; a brilliant but restlesg 
Greek king over three hundred years 
before Christ, who invaded Italy to 
fight the Romans. Steele borrows the 
story, p. 61, 1. 28, from Plutarch. 

Pytliagoi'as; an early Greek phi- 
losopher. His followers believed in 
the value of self-examination and in 
the transmigration of souls 
(which see) ; p. 114, 1, 13. 

Q,uadrate; square; p. 261, 1. 11. 
Q,uality; (a) rank; social position; 



GLOSSARY 



353 



p. 251, 1. 11; (b) high social posi- 
tion; p. 116, 1. 11. 

Quarter sessions; same as 
county sessions; see Introduc- 
tion, Section IS. 

Q,neen's time; the reign of Queen 
Anne (1702-14) ; p. 99. 1. 20. 

Q,uomni; see Introduction, Section 
18. 

Racine; -see under Corneille. 

RainljoT*^, Tlxe; see Introduction, 
Section 13. 

Raleigli, Sir "Walter; author, 
courtier, and adventurer on the high 
seas, under Queen Elizabeth ; through 
the plots of his enemies, executed 
under James I in 1618; p. 175, 1. 
29. 

Ramillies; a famous victory by the 
English under the Duke of Marl- 
borough in 1706 ; p. 144, 1. 22. 

Rampant; rearing or standing with 
the forepaws in the air; p. 176, 
1. 6. 

Rapin; a seventeenth century French 
essayist on Horace, Virgil, and Aris- 
totle ; now pretty much neglected ; 
p. 261, 1. 26. 

Recover tlie imputation; 
counteract the imputation; p. 110, 
1. 22. 

Reformed subjects; Protestant 
subjects ; p. 60, 1. 25. 

Res'^vick; see Ryswick. 

Reversion; the right to succeed to 
some estate, moneys, or salaried of- 
fice after the expiration of the pres- 
ent possessor's rights or after his 
death. Such reversions were once 
much more common than they are 
now ; and much money was borrowed 
at exorbitant rates on the strength 
of them ; p. 301, 1. 13. 

ReviCTV, The; a journal issued 
every other day by Daniel Defoe ; p. 
75, I. 17. 

Revolution, Tlie; see under 
Civil War. 

Rig'lit; thoroughly; p. 210, 1. 2. 



Ring'; see under London and 

"W^estminster. 
Roger, Sir; Sir Roger de Coverley; 

see under Clubs. 
Rolls; ancient records written on 

rolls of parchment ; p. 3^8, 1. 15. 

Rosamond's Bower; a bower 
where Henry II is said to have 
sheltered a favorite, Rosamond Clif- 
ford. In 1705j Addison made it the 
theme for an opera, which promptly 
failed. Part of his libretto is as 
follows : 

"Behold on yonder rising ground 

The bower that wanders, 

In meanders. 

Ever bending. 

Never ending, 

Glades on glades, 

Shades in shades, 

Running an eternal round." 
p. 216, 1. 9. 

Royal Society; in 1645, a group 
of studious gentlemen came together 
for the purpose of comparing their 
observations and opinions on such 
subjects as optics, medicine, anat- 
omy,- astronomy, etc. In 1660, the 
club or society they formed was 
meeting every Wednesday at three 
o'clock. Its entrance fees were ten 
shillings and its annual dues three. 
In the days of the Spectator its 
president was the mathematician and 
astronomer. Sir Isaac Neioton, who, 
according to his epitaph in West- 
minster Abbey, "by a vigor of mind 
almost stupendous, first demon- 
strated the motions and figures of 
the planets, the paths of the comets, 
and the tides of the ocean." The 
"fellows" or members, of this soci- 
ety, were of various sorts. Some 
were busy-idle country gentlemen 
who did little more than collect coins 
or record changes in the weather. 
Others were wise and learned inves- 
tigators. Still others were quaint 
and curious speculators. From the 
collections of its secretary origi- 



354 



GLOSSARY 



nated the present British Museum. 
From another of its members came 
the childish theory that fossils have 
been buried at different depths in 
the earth's surface by the force of 
Noah's flood. Today this Royal So- 
ciety is the most notable of all Brit- 
ish associations for the advance- 
ment of science; p. 53, 1. IS; see 
also Men of Sense. 

Ruler of the Winds; King ^o- 
lus, who at the command of the gods 
unlooses a storm that wrecks .lEne- 
as ; see Virgil's ^neid 1 :85 ; p. 
269, 1. 11. 

Rules; see Introduction, Section 11; 
also see Unities. 

Rump; sixty men left in parliament 
after Colonel Pride, in 1648, drove 
all Presbyterians out of that body. 
It lasted till 1653, when Cromwell 
turned it out ; p. 99, 1. 21. 

Run; better, ran; p. 86, 1. 26. 

Rycaut, Sir Paul; see under Ma- 
lioniet. 

RysTFiek, Peace of; a treaty of 
peace in 1797, by which Louis XIV 
acknowledged the Protestants, Wil- 
liam and Mary, as the sovereigns of 
England, and consented to other se- 
rious losses to his prestige ; p. 57, 
1. 15. 

Sack ; cheap white Spanish wine ; p. 
81, 1. 8. 

Saint George; in old legends, a 
slayer of dragons ; adopted as the 
patron saint of England ; p. 127, 1. 
14. 

St. James's; (a) a coffee house; 
p. 70, 1. 16; see Introduction, Sec- 
tion 13; (b) a region in Westmin- 
ster-; p. 69, 1. 8 ; see under Lon- 
don and Westminster. 

St. James's Park; see under 
London and W^estminster. 

Salisbury, Gilbert Burnet, 
Bishop of; a busy Protestant 
bishop, who tutored the princesses 
Mary and Anne, mixed in Church 



and State politics, and wrote gar- 
rulous memoirs ; p. 183, 1. 10. 

Schoolmen; those learned in logic, 
philosophy, and theology in the mid- 
dle ages. They were devoted to the 
art of drawing very fine distinctions 
and asking ingenious and puzzling 
questions in matters where human 
knowledge is impossible and often 
would be useless ; p. 297, 1. 1. 

Scotland ; in January, 1716, James 
Edward, son of James II, and there- 
fore claimant to the throne of Eng- 
land, made a public entry into Perth, 
Scotland, in pursuit of the English 
crown. Within a month he had fled 
the kingdom ; p. 100, 1. 27 ; see also 
Civil War. 

Sea-coals; coal as distinguished 
from charcoal ; p. 236, 1. 22. 

See him out; "It was Addison's 
practice, when he found any man 
invincibly wrong, to flatter his opin- 
ions by acquiescence and sink him 
yet deeper in absurdity," Dr. John- 
son; p. 100, 1. 3. 

Senecio; from the Latin word 
Senex, meaning old man; p. 115, 
1. 22. 

Sense; see Men of Sense. 

Sentry, Captain; see under 
Clubs. 

Seven champions of Chris- 
tendom; the patron saints of 
seven different countries, each noted 
for his own miracle or marvel. B"or 
instance, we are told that St. Denis, 
of France, after being beheaded, 
walked off with his head under his 
arm ; p. 127, 1. 6. 

Severity of the lafv in an- 
cient times; under Cromwell, 
severe measures were used in exiling 
or suppressing those in favor of the 
Stuart kings ; p. 86, 1. 10. 

Se'CT-er; an open ditch or gutter; p. 
240, 1. 7. 

Sheer Lane; see under London 
and Westminster. 

Shilling:; a silver piece worth about 
twenty-five cents, Four farthings 



GLOSSAEY 



355 



make a penny, twelve pence a shil- 
ling; p. 80, 1. 6. 

Shire; county; p. 102, 1. 25. 

Short face; a good-natured reflec- 
tion on the rotundity of Addison's 
face ; a common joke with Steele 
and Addison ; p. 323, 1. 28. 

Sliovel, Six* ClOTidesley; an 
English admiral who took part in 
the victory of La Hogue (1692) 
and was shipwrecked and drowned 
on the Scilly Isles in 1707; p. 318, 
1. 8. 

Sibyl; in ancient superstitions, a 
woman gifted with prophecy and the 
power of placating the gods ; p. 159, 
1. 8. 

Sidney, Sir Pliilip; noted in the 
court of Queen Elizabeth as a chiv- 
alric soldier and romantic poet ; p. 
252, 1. 24. 

Sir Roger de Coverley's 
couiitry seat; those interested in 
Mr. Spectator's notes may under- 
stand most of them by reading the 
following papers: 1) 2, 2) 4, 3 and 
4) 7, 5) 11, 6) 25, 7) 12, 8) 37, 9) 
13, 10) 31, 11) 15, 12) 16, 13) 19, 
14) 21, 15) 22, 16) 14, 17) 26, 18) 
1, 8, 17, 21) 28, 22) 29, 23) 17, 32, 
24) 33, 25) 35, 26) 36, 27) 41, 29) 
30, 30) 22, 31) 14, 44) 23, 47 and 
48) 46. The ingenious may be able 
to trace other of these notes. Some, 
however, are merely make-believe ; 
p. 180, 1. 16. 

Small liieex'; poor beer. "Like sour 
small beer, she could never have 
been a good thing, and even that 
bad thing is spoiled," Dr. Johnson; 
p. 193, 1. 11. 

Smallpox; a pest of which every- 
one lived in fear until vaccination 
was discovered in 1796 ; p. 143, 1. 
9. 

Smithlield; see under London 
and Westminster. 

Socrates; an ancient Greek phi- 
losopher. He is said to have taught 
on the street and in the market 
place by asking his pupils or op- 



ponents shrewd and searching ques- 
. tions ; noted for his homeliness of 

behavior and whimsical expressions 

of humility ; p. 52, 1. 12. 
Sold out of tlie Bank; sold his 

stock in the Bank of E^ng'land 

(which see) ; p. 73, 1. 2. 
Something; somewhat; p. 87, 1. 

27. 
Spanish monarchy; see under 

Louis XIV. 
Spectator, The; see Introduction, 

Sections 1, 24, 30, 34. 
Speculation; (a) theory; p. 129, 

1. 3; (b) long sustained thought on 

a serious subject; p. 161, 1. 13; (c) 

any issue of the Tatler or Spectator ; 

p. 52, 1. 4. 
Spleen; nervous depression; p. 147, 

1. 19. 
Splendid Shilling', The; this 

poem by John Philips (1676-1709) 

begins : 

Happy the man, who, void of cares 

and strife. 
In silken or in leathern purse retains 
A Splendid Shilling; he nor hears 

with pain 
New oysters cried, nor sighs for 

cheerful ale ; p. 84, 1, 11. 

Spoke; spoken; p. 113, 1. 16. 

Squir;- to throw with a jerk; p. 
82, 1. 17. 

Squire; see Introduction, Sections 
17 and 18. 

Stations; positions; p. 321, 1. 11. 

Statins; author of a long Latin epic 
about two unhappy brothers who 
fought for the possession of the 
Greek city of Thebes ; p. 254, 1. 14, 

Steal a kingdom; an allusion to 
Louis XlV's use of diplomacy as 
well as war in securing the Spanish 
throne for his grandson; p. 61, L 
25; see Louis XIV. 

Steele; see Introduction, Sections 
13, 20, 29-33. 

Steenkirk; a signal defeat of the 
English king, August 3, 1692, by 
the French army, though William 



356 



GLOSSARY 



had at first surprised and routed 
them. To commemorate the celerity 
with which the French generals 
had dressed themselves for battle 
the Parisian fops wore their cravats 
in apparent disorder and called them 
Steenkirks. The English fops soon 
imitated their example. The battle 
therefore had some social distinc- 
tion ; p. 232, 1. 22. 

Still; always; p. 109, 1. 11; p. 246, 
1. 21, etc. 

Stool-ball; an outdoor game, some- 
thing like cricket, played chiefly by 
women ; p. 199, 1. 5. 

Streets; see Introduction, Section 2. 

Street signs; see Introduction, 
Section 2. 

Stuarts; see under Civil AVar; 
see also Introduction. Section 20. 

Subsisted; subsisting; p. 163, I. 
28. 

Suit of ribbons; set of ribbons; 
p. 54, 1. 24. 

Suniumni bonuui; highest good; 
p. 180, 1 23. 

Supplement, Tlie; a journal pub- 
lished alternately with the Postboy ; 
p. 65, 1. 19. 

S'tvau; a bird fabled to sing beauti- 
fully while dyiug. The word is often 
applied to poets noted for grace and 
melod.v ; p. 197, 1. 6. 

S"\vetleu, King? Cbarles XII 
of; he cimducted brilliant but un- 
successful campaigns against Rus- 
sia (Muscovy) ; he ravageu what 
was then the independent kingdom 
of Poland and in 1704 deposed its 
sovereign. King Augustus II; from 
1709 to 1713, he encamped in Ben- 
der, near the borders of Russia and 
Turkey. The Turks, who, for a time 
were allied with him against the 
Czar, Peter the Great, made a treaty 
of peace with Peter, and on Charles's 
refusal to break up camp, captured 
him in 1713. He was wounded in the 
heel in 1709: "As he was returning 
to his camp, he received a shot from 
a carbine, which pierced his boot 



and shattered the bone of his heel. 
There was not the least alteration 
observable in his countenance from 
which it could be suspected that he 
had received a wound. He continued 
to give orders Avith great composure, 
and after this accident remained al- 
most six hours on horseback. One 
of the domestics, observing that the 
sole of the king's boot was bloody, 
made haste to call the surgeons ; 
and the pain had now become bo 
severe that they were obliged to 
assist him in dismounting and to 
carry him to his tent. The surgeons 
examined the wound, and were of 
opinion that the leg must be cut off, 
which threw the army into the ut- 
most consternation. But one of the 
surgeons, named Newman, who had 
more skill and courage than the rest, 
affirmed that bj' making deep in- 
cisions he could save the king's leg. 
'Fall to work then, presently,' 
said the king to him, 'cut boldly 
and fear nothing.' He himself held 
the leg with both his hands, and 
beheld the incisions that were made 
in it, as if the operation had been 
performed upon another person." 
Voltaire, translated by 0. W. 
Wight; p. 64, 1. 29. 
S^vift, Jonatban; see Introduc- 
tion, Sections 12, 19, 26. 

Tacitus ; an ancient Roman his- 
torian, who often compressed a great 
deal, not always flattering to hu- 
man nature, into a short compass ; 
p. 322, 1. 17. * 

Tacker; in 1704, one of 134 mem- 
bers of the House of Commons who 
tried to pass a Tory measure by 
tacking it to an appropriation bjU- 
They were overwhelmingly defeated ; 
p. 298, 1. 17. 

Taken out; taken as a partner in 
a dance ; p. 141, 1. 2. 

Tale of a. Tub; a biting satire 
against various divisions of Chris- 
tians, published arjonj'mously by the 



GLOSSAEY 



357 



Rev. Jouathan Swift, later Dean of 
St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin; p. 
119, 1. 26. 

Taste, 3IeTi of; see Introduction, 
Sections 8, 9, 10, 11 ; compare with 
Men of Sense. 

Taster of antiauity; the taste 
supposed to be shown by the Greeks 
and Romans for proper proportions 
in all matters of art, and self-con- 
trol in all matters of feeling. This, 
in Addison's eyes, was the truest 
and highest taste ; p. 318, 1. 21 ; 
see Introduction, Section 10. 

Tatler, The; see Introduction, Sec- 
tions 1, 13, 24, 30, 31, 34. 

Tax-gatlierer; in Oriental coun- 
tries, it has often been customary 
to sell the right to collect taxes to 
the highest bidder. He was entitled 
to collect all he could get ; p. 204, 
1. 17. 

Tetlded grass; grass cut and 
spread out to dry; p. 240, 1. 11. 

Tenipe; a romantic valley near 
Mount Olympus in Greece ; p. 24G. 

Temperance; moderation; self- 
control ; never used in Addison's 
day to mean total abstinence ; p. 
291, 1. 22. 

Templar; see Clubs; and Iniis of 
CowrUmder London andW-^est- 
minster. 

Temple; see Inns of Court under 
London and Westminster. 

Temple Bai*; see under London 
and Westminster. 

Temple, Sir William; a diplo- 
matist who retired from politics in 
Charles II 's reign and solaced his 
loneliness by writing pleasant es- 
says. "When all is done," he says, 
"human life is at the greatest and 
the best but like a froward child, 
that must be played with, and 
humored a little to keep it quiet till 
it falls asleep and then the care is 
over" ; p. 294, 1. 3. 

Terence; a Roman writer of 
comedies of the second century be- 



fore Christ. Six of his plays survive; 
p. 197, 1. 21. 

Tlieater, The; see Introduction, 
Sections 7-11. 

Third bottle; third pint of port 
wine at a sitting ; a common boast 
of hard drinkers in the eighteenth 
century; p. 190, 1. 6. 

Thousand arches; see Genesis 
V; p. 311, 1. 2. 

Thi-eescore and ten entire 
ai'ches; see Psalms XC:10; p. 
310, 1. 27. 

Tig-er; see Tower under London 
and Westxninster. 

Tilt Yard Coffee House; see 
Introduction, Section 13. 

Titles; the value of a gold coin ex- 
pressed in carats ; hence the far- 
fetched pun on p. S3, 1. 18. In the 
same passage, Addison refers to 
those who stole what silver they 
could from a shilling and then passed 
it on. 

Toast; one honored by having toasts 
drunk to her honor ; in some circles, 
some one belle was made the toast 
for the season; p. 126, 1. 17. 

Topiary; the art of pruning trees 
into cones, pyramids, globes, or fan- 
tastic shapes of men and animals ; 
a taste much affected by the arti- 
ficial "lovers of nature" in the 
early eighteenth century along with 
a sentiment for classical and "goth- 
ic" summer houses and manufac- 
tured grottoes, lined with shells and 
•bits of looking glass. 

Tories; see Introduction, Sections 
20, 21. 

Tout puissant; all powerful; p. 
61, 1. 14. 

ToTver, The; see under London 
and W^estminstei*. 

Town, The; see under London 
and Westminstei*. 

Trade; commercial business; p. 191, 
1. 9. 

Train bands; militia companies; 
p. 96, 1. 23. 



358 



GLOSSAEY 



Iransiuis'i-ation of souls; the 

belief held by various peoples, 
especially in India, that the soul or 
something very like it in every 
creature, instead of perishing at 
death,' reappears in a new body of 
a sort fitted to its deserts. Believers 
in transmigration naturally hold 
animals in superstitious and fantas- 
tic esteem. Pythagoras, a Greek 
philosopher, some five hundred years 
before Christ, is said to have taught 
this doctrine and to have persuaded 
his followers not to eat meat. It is 
not a Mahometan doctrine ; p. 201, 
1. 4. 

Travel; see Introduction, Section 
16. 

Trent; one of the principal rivers 
of central England ; the uprisings 
in favor of the Stuart pretenders 
were always to the north of it ; the 
south was a stronghold for parlia- 
mentary government and the rulers 
that were the choice of parliament ; 
p. 94, 1. 22. 

Triumpli; a solemn procession de- 
creed by the Roman Senate to a 
victorious general. He entered the 
city in a four-horse chariot, pre- 
ceded by his captives and spoils and 
followed by his troops; p. 321, 1. 3. 

Tmclving'; exchanging; swapping; 
p. 282, 1. 30. 

True-born Englislimau; a 
term by which the Whigs jeered at 
the narrow patriotism of those 
Tories who objected to the pro- 
gressive William III because he 
was foreign-born ; p. 67, 1. 2. 

Trumpet, The; an inn in Sheer 
Lane (which see under London 
and Westminster). 

Tulipomania; in Holland, in the 
seventeenth century, men gambled 
in tulips as men gamble in stocks. 
Even in Addison's day, though "the 
bubble had burst," tulips were 
bought and sold at absurdly high 
prices; p. 243, 1. 8. 



Tui'nus; see Virgril. 

TT*'ist; a mixed drink of some Sort, 
as gin-twist ; dish of twist ; a cup of 
twist; p. 192, I. 11. 

Unities, Tlie; the three dramatic 
unities of time, place, and acMon, or 
plot, designed to give plays an air 
of greater reality. "The largest 
compass for the first unity," says 
an old critic, "is twenty-four hours. 
But a lesser proportion is more reg- 
ular. To be exact, the whole busi- 
ness of the play should not be much 
longer than the time it takes up in 
playing. The second unity is that of 
place. To observe it, the scene must 
not wander from one town or coun- 
try to another. It must continue in 
the same house, street, or, at far 
thest, in the same city where it was 
first laid. . . . The third unity is 
that of action. ... To represent 
two considerable actions independent 
of each other destroys the beauty 
of subordination . . . and . . . 
splits the play." Much ridicule has 
been heaped on eighteenth century 
critics for laying so much stress on 
these three unities, and it is true 
that slavish adherence to them has 
led to long-winded descriptions and 
frigid declamations. But it is also 
true that many an author today 
has recognized their value and has 
profited by them in writing con- 
centrated plays of vivid scenes and 
rapid action; p. 261, 1. 13. 

Urn; in classical times, the ashes of 
the dead, after cremation, were 
placed in urns ; later, the word be- 
came a poetical term for the grave ; 
p. 197, 1. 1. 

Uses to be very cleai*; is ac- 
customed to be very clear ; p. 65, 
1. 29. 

Vapors; see Introduction, Section 5. 
VendSme, Duke of; a famous 

French general under Louis XIV ; 

p. 241, 1. 4. 



GLOSSAEY 



359 



Vessels; veins, arteries, etc.; p. 
162, 1. 2. 

Victor; see Introduction, Section 32. 

Villars, Marshal; a famous 
French general under Louis XIV ; 
p. 241, 1. 19. 

^'irsril; a Roman poet of great cul- 
ture and refinement. He deliberately 
imitated earlier poets in his poems 
on shepherds {The Bucolics) and 
farming {The Georgics) , and fol- 
lowed the example of Homer in his 
JEneid. In this poem, the hero 
MnesiS, rendered homeless by the 
ruin of his native city, wanders 
fruitlessly many years until he 
reaches Italy. Here, eager to gain 
a wife and a kingdom, he incurs 
the hostility of the native princes 
and is forced into a bloody war 
(pp. 257-259). Among his enemies, 
the chief is the fierce Turnus : 

"By such a fury is he driven; 

from all his countenance 
The fiery flashes leap, the flames 

in his fierce eyeballs dance." 

Another foe is the maiden warrior 
Camilla, 

"Leading a mighty host of horse all 

blossoming with brass, 
The very winds might she outgo 

with hurrying maiden feet, 
Or speed across the topmost blades 

of tall unsmitten wheat, 
Nor ever hurt the tender ears below 

her as she ran." 

The most chivalric of 2Eneas's ene- 
mies is Lausus, who dies in rescu- 
ing his father from ^]neas's wrath : 

"Ah, whither rushest thou to die, 
and darest things o'er great" (Tr. 
by William Morris). 

For further comment on Virgil, see 
Introduction. Section 10. 
Visitant; visitor (now seldom used 
except to denote supernatural visi- 
tors) ; p. 149, I. 9. 



"Vitellius; a gluttonous Roman Em- 
peror, too sluggish to overwhelm 
his enemies ; they seized him, and, 
after the most insulting treatment, 
iiilled him; p. 62, 1. 25. 

Vulg-ar, Tlie; the uneducated; p. 
326, 1. 3. 

AValsingliam, Sir Francis; a 

celebrated statesman who conducted 
the detective department of Queen 
Elizabeth's government ; p. 174, 1. 
29. 

Want; lacli, need; p. 121, 1. 7. 

"War, The; see Introduction, Sec- 
tions 21, 25, 30. 

"V^'ax'Tt-ioli, Lady; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 25. 

"^Vatcli; a watchman or group of 
them ; p. 234, 1. 27 ; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 3. 

IVaters; the waters of some me- 
dicinal spring at a fashionable re- 
sort; p. 188, L 3. 

■Weather-glass J thermometer; p. 
214, 1. 28. 

^\ estminster; Westminstei* 
Abbey; Westminster Hall; 
see under London and West- 
minster. 

Whig-s; see Introduction, Sections 
20, 21. 

WidoTT "tvoman; described in the 
twelfth issue of the Spectator; p. 
324, 1. 4. 

Wigs; through much of the seven- 
teenth century and most of the 
eighteenth, no gentleman was seen 
without Bis wig. On very informal 
occasions, he wore a ioiicig, in 
which the bottom locks were turned 
up into short curls. In full-iottomed 
icigs, the curls flowed over the 
shoulders ; in the Ramillie wig, the 
hair diminished from the shoulders 
into a long plaited curl, ending in 
a bow; in a campaign wig (p. 64, 1. 
18), the hair was full and curled 
but not flowing; the term nightcap 
wig is a joke that explains Itself. 
Wigs were also called periwigs (p. 



360 



GLOSSAEY 



126, 1. 1) and perukes (p. 14, 1. 
21). 

William Riifus, or William the 
Red, king of England from 1087 till 
his death in 1100 in New B^'orest ; p. 
235, 1. 18. 

^Villiani's reign, King; 1689- 
1702; p. 231, 1. 2. 

"William the Conqueror; a 
duke of Normandy who invaded Eng- 
land in 1066, seized the throne and 
divided the control of English terri- 
tory among his Norman followers. 
In this division he was bountiful to 
the Church, but apparently not 
bountiful enough to suit its more 
ardent adherents. His New Forest 
Avas a large territory which he 
maintained as a hunting preserve, 
after he had destroyed, so it is said, 
some of its villages and churches. 
Here two of his sons and one of his 
grandsons lost their lives, either by 
the accidents of the chase, or by 
assassination ; p. 169, 1. 28. 

"Will's; a coffee house; see Introduc- 
tion, Section 13. 

Winked npon; winked at; p. 89, 
1. 8. 

Wit; see Introduction, Section 8. 

"Witch; an act was still in force in 
Addison's day decreeing death to 
whoever dealt with evil spirits or 
invoked them, whereby any persons 



were killed or lamed, etc. Under 
this law two women were executed 
in Northampton just before the 
Spectator began to be published. 
Not long after (1716), a Mrs. Hicks 
and her daughter were hanged at 
Huntingdon for selling their souls 
to the devil, making their neighbors 
vomit pins, and raising a storm so 
that a certain ship was almost lost. 
— Condensed from W. H. Wills ; p. 
103, 1. 7. 

"Within onr selves; by keeping 
out importations through a high 
Tory tariff and discouraging the 
commerce the Whigs wished to en- 
courage ; p. 103, 1. 13. 

Woman of fashion; see Intro- 
duction, Section 5. 

"Wooden walls; a navy; p. 103, 
1. 19. 

"Woolen mannfacture; so eager 
was the government to increase the 
use of woolen that it allowed no 
body to be buried till it wa 
wrapped in woolen ; p. 66, 1. 22. 

Writ; wrote; p. 145, 1. 7. 

Young-er sons; see Introduction, 
Section 15. 

Zephyrns; the mildest and gentlest 
of the breezes of the forest ; p. 238, 
1. 16. 



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